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ANGELO.     A  Poem.     i8mo,  gilt  top,  $1.00. 
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BEYOND  THE    SHADOW.     Poems.     i8mo, 

HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  &  CO. 
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BEYOND  THE   SHADOW 
AND   OTHER   POEMS 


STUART   STERNE 


BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK 
HOUGHTON,    MIFFLIN    AND   COMPANY 


Copyright,  1888, 
BY  HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  &  CO. 

All  rights  reserved. 


The  Riverside  Press,  Cambridge : 
Electrotyped  and  Printed  by  H.  O.  Houghton  &  Co- 


II 


To 
ONE  "BEYOND  THE  SHADOW" 

THROUGH  WHOM  HAS  COME  TO  MB 

A  HERITAGE  OF  TEARS,   BUT  ALSO  A  PURER  FAITH  IN  GOD  AND  MAN, 
AND  A   DEEPER   COMPREHENSION   OF 

LIFE,  DEATH,  AND  ETERNITY, 
IN   UNFALTERING   LOVE  ARE  INSCRIBED 

QttjtBt   $agf5, 

BY 
S.    S. 


304516 


CONTENTS. 


AFTER  DEATH. 

I.  A  VOICE  FROM  ABOVE         ....  7 

II.   A  VOICE  FROM  BELOW 13 

III.  THE  VOICE  FROM  ABOVE      ....  19 

IV.  SECOND  VOICE  FROM  ABOVE  .        .        .        .26 

A  MAIDEN'S  QUESTION 37 

SURRENDER 41 

YEARNING 43 

A  FLOWER  OF  HOPE 45 

INSUFFICIENCY 48 

Two  SONNETS 50 

THE  FACE  OF  GOD 52 

A  WELL  OF  SORROW 54 

THROUGH  THE  MIDNIGHT  SKY 57 

GOD'S  PEACE 59 

HYMN 61 

INTO  THY  HANDS 63 

SONNET 66 

THE  HERB  FORGETFULNESS 67 

THY  WILL  BE  DONE 69 

MY  FATHER'S  CHILD 70 


iv  CONTENTS. 

AFTER-YEARS 72 

HOPE 77 

CUPID 78 

YOUNG  LOVE 81 

His  WILL,  NOT  MINE 83 

SHIPWRECKED 86 

LOVE  HAS  DECEIVED  ME 88 

MARIANA 90 

THE  SILENT  HOUSE 92 

SONG 94 

LOVE  ME 95 

SORROW 96 

MEASURE  FOR  MEASURE 98 

THE  STROLLING  PLAYER 103 

THE  OLD  POET'S  REST 105 

DESIRE 106 

TRUST  ME  NOT,  LOVE 107 

THY  HEART  is  LIKE  THE  SUN 109 

WHERE  HAST  THOU  GONE,  O  MY  SOUL    .        .        .no 

SONNET 112 

OH,  BAR  THY  GATES 113 

ROME 115 

SUNDAY 118 

To  AN  UNKNOWN  LOVE 119 

O  FLOWER  MOST  FINE       .       .        .       .       .       .123 

GREECE 125 

LIKE  TO  A  BROOK,  O  SONG 127 

BE  STILL 130 

ALL  FUTURE  YEARS  ALONG 132 

ABOVE  AND  EARTH  AND  TIME 135 

IN  VAIN 13? 


CONTENTS.  V 

ETERNAL  SPRING 140 

SONNET 142 

TRANSFORMATION 143 

SONNET 144 

Two  SONNETS.    SOLITUDE  AND  SILENCE       .       .  145 

SONNET 147 


BEYOND   THE   SHADOW. 


AFTER   DEATH. 


A   VOICE    FROM   ABOVE. 

WHERE  am  I  ?  —  Do  I  live  ?  —  When  yesternight, 
Even  as  the  tide  went  out  'neath  paling  stars, 
My  fevered  eyes  closed  wearily,    I   caught 
In  the  last  gleam  of  fading  consciousness, 
The  whispered  words,  "  'T  is  over,  —  he  is  dead  !  " 
And  yet,  —  oh  strange  !  —  these  eyes   are   open 

now, 

And  painless  lift  their  lids  !  —  I  gaze  around,  — 
I  turn  my  head,  —  I  see  and  feel  and  touch 
A  hand,  an  arm, — beneath  me  trunk  and  limbs 
More  light,  more  fine,  yet  not  all  unlike  those 
That  shall  be  laid  away  beneath  the  ground, 
Which    sometimes     proved    a    burden,    weighing 

down 
The  spirit  with  their  cumbrance  ;    yet  more  days 


8  BEYOND   THE  SHADOW. 

Filled  me  with  a  brave  sense  of  joy  and  power, 
When  lustily,  in  full,  free  swing  they  sported 
In  the  glad  earthly  sunshine. 

And  is  this 

That  second  better  world,  whereof  so  much 
Was  said  and  preached  and  sung  to  us  below  ?  — 
This  leaden,  low-hung,  murky  sky,  but  cleft 
By  a  dull  bar  of  orange  far  beyond,  — 
This  heaving,  turbid  sea,  whose  fretful  waves 
Chafe  the  bleak  shore,  and  this  gray,  barren  rock 
Whereon  I  lie  ?  —  nude,  without  hope,  alone,  — 
Even  as  ten  thousand  centuries  ago 
The  first  created  man  was  helpless  cast 
On  that  rude  nether  world,  whence  but  so  late 
I  was  translated  hither. 

Ah,  look  there  ! 

A  sight  no  living  eye  has  ever  seen  !  — 
In  the  dim  distance,  their  blurred  outlines  dark 
Against  that  tawny  bar  across  the  sky, 
A  cloud  of  shadowy  shapes,  adrift,  awhirl, 
Like  seething  vapors  lashed  by  wind  and  rain, — 
Thousands  on  thousands,  a  vast,  countless  throng, 
A  shifting,  writhing,  mighty   multitude 
Of  human  forms  that  endless  pass  and  pass! 


AFTER  DEATH.  9 

Departed  spirits  like  myself,  past  doubt, 
And  like  myself,  here,  to  their  own  surprise, 
Clothed  in  some  semblance  of  their  earthly  garb, 
And  finer  substance. 

Ah,  and  hark  !   there  rises, 

Distinct  from  muttering  sea  and  soughing  wind, 
A  sound  no  living  ear  has  ever  heard,  — 
A  weird,  wild,  wailing  note,  a  long-drawn  chant, 
That  comes  in  fitful  gusts,  swells,  sinks  and  dies 
In  broken  accents  on  the  heavy  air, 
Waking  faint  echoes. 

Who,  what  were  they  all, 
Those   flitting   shades  ?  —  how  came  they  to  this 

shore, 

That  lies  like  a  bleak,  desert,  fire-swept  island, 
Sunless  and  starless,  in  the  very  midst 
Of  God's  great  universe  of  light  and  joy?  — 
God  !  —  oh,  tremendous  word  !  —  let  me  not  now 
Give  without  trembling  utterance  to  the  name 
My  heedless  tongue  was  wont  to  take  in  vain  !  — 
Who,  what  was  I  myself,  —  how  came  I  here  ? 

Let  me  remember  !  —  Yes,  I  was  a  man, 
Fair,  tall,  of  powerful  frame  and  lofty  brow, 


TO  BEYOND    THE  SHADOW. 

With  eloquent  lips  that  swayed  the  souls  of  men, 

Persuading  them  to  laughter  or  to  tears, 

And    with    a    heart    in    this    broad,    deep-voiced 

breast 

Full  as  the  sunny  grape  of  generous  sweetness, 
That  should  have  proved  a  blessing  to  my  kind. 
God  lavished  on  me  rich,  rare,  happy  gifts, 
Opened  a  thousand  opportunities 
For  goodness  and  for  greatness  !     Oh,  but  I  — 
I,  like  a  foolish  boy,  a  ruthless  knave, 
Who  plucks  for  wanton  sport  with  impious  hands 
The  fairest  crimson  heart  of  all  the  summer 
To  scatter  its  sweet  petals  to  the  wind  ; 
I    used,  spoiled,    wasted    all,  —  squandered    and 

spent, 

Within  a  few  mad  years,  the  garnered  wealth 
That    should    have    served    me    through    a  long, 

glad  life; 
Passed   the  loud  nights  'mid  laughter,  wine,  and 

song, 

And  kisses  from  red  lips,  bought  for  a  price, — 
The  days  in  idle  pleasure,  nothing,  —  not 
My  children's  voices,  nor  their  baby  hands, 
Could  win  or  pluck  me  from.    My  children,  —  ay, 
For  God  made  me  a  father  ! 


AFTER  DEATH.  II 

So  at  last 

The  soul  that  drank  too  thirstily  and  deep 
Of  all  the  bitter  sweetness  of  the  world, 
Forgot  all  else,  and  from  the  fevered  brain 
There  faded  like  poor,  pallid  smoke,  high  thought 
And  lofty  purpose  and  immortal  aim  j  — 
Nay,  do  not  smile  ;  for  I,  too,  knew  them  once, 
High  thought  and  lofty  purpose,  even  I,  — 
Like  some  dim  gleaming  castle  in  the  clouds, 
A  child  may  feebly  reach  for. 

So  at  last 

I  shrank  to  but  a  shadow  of  myself, 
The  strength  of  manhood  shriveled  in  my  veins, 
The  very  heart  itself,  grown  tainted  too, 
Contracted  and  turned  crabbed,  harsh,  and  sour, 
Even  as  the  generous  juices  of  the  grape 
May  rot  through  some  unsoundness  in  the  vine, 
For  something  from  the  very  first  beginning 
Must  needs  have  been  amiss,  when  I  was  made, 
Some  mortal  weakness  lurking  in  the  blood, 
Else,  mayhap,  had  I  not  gone  thus  astray, 
So  far,  so  hopelessly !  —  And  like  a  tower 
Sapped  at  the  root  from  its  foundation  stone, 
I  crumbled,  tottered,  then  gave  way  and  fell ;  — 
I  who  so  gayly  rode  life's  awful  sea, 


12  BEYOND   THE  SHADOW. 

But  like  a  summer  bark  with  silken  sails, 
Thoughtless  of  all  the  storms  that  sleep  below, 
Was  shipwrecked  utterly  !  —  perished  long  ere 
That  brief,  last  mortal  weakness  stole  upon  me, 
And  men  said,  "  He  is  dead  ! " 

And  now,  what  now? 

Even  here  alone,  on  this  dark,  desert  shore 
Of  a  dim,  unknown,  strange,  and  awful  world, 
Cut  off  from  all  companionship,  all  ties 
Of  love  and  comfort,  I  must  undertake 
A  sore,  tremendous,   never-ending  task, — 
The  slow  salvation  of   my  soul !     Ay,  from 
Such  scant  material,  such  few  broken  spars 
As  I  may  find  in  that  abandoned  soul, 
Build  me  a  new,  nobler,  more  worthy  life 
Than  ever  yet  it  dreamed. 

Yet  where  begin, 

How  set  to  work  ?   Ah,  how,  save  but  with  Him, 
Him  the  beginning  and  the  end  of  all  things 
Of  earth  or  heaven  !     Behold,  I  move,  I  rise, 
I  stand  erect  and  firm  !     But  joyfully 
Do  my  repentant  knees  and  humbled  brow 
Sink  back  again  to  kiss  the  barren  ground !  — 
All-merciful,  Almighty,  Infinite  God, 


AFTER  DEATH.  13 

Whom  in  the  world  below  I  never  knew, 

Turn  not  Thy  face  from  me,  —  my  first  act  here 

Is  prostrate  to  adore  Thy  Blessed  Name  ! 


II. 


A   VOICE   FROM    BELOW. 

HAST  thou  in  truth  passed  to  that  shore  we  call 
The  land  of  darkness  and  eternal  silence? 
Thou  too,  whom   our   fond    hearts  were  wont  to 

think 

So  panoplied  in  fairest  life  and  power, 
That  mortal  ills  could  scarce  assail  thee  ?  —  Ay, 
Gone  mutely,  with  veiled  head  ?  —  Thou,  on  whose 

lips 

Sat  golden  speech  like  music,  and  a  smile 
So  infinite  sweet,  that  with  its  fading  out 
Something  was  taken  from  the  sunlight,  never 
To  be  restored,  and  one  gray  shadow  more 
Added  to  weary  earth. 

Here,  in  this  world, 

While  thy  gay  heart  still  basked  in  light  and  joy, 
My  eager  soul  was  wont  to  follow  thee 
With  love  and  yearning.  —  It  was  with  thee  oft 


14  BEYOND    THE  SHADOW. 

At  noisy  feast  and  revel,  or  again 

In  those  rare  lonely  hours  of  silent  night, 

When  it  may  be  thy  nobler  nature  woke 

To  warn  and  plead  aloud.  —  And  so  even  now 

It  would  go  forth,  groping  its  fearless  way 

'Mid  the  dim  shadows  of  that  shore  of  death, 

To  pierce  the  mystery  and  awful  gloom 

That    wrap    thee     round,  —  be     with     thee    still 

through  all 

The  sore  probation  that  must  now  be  thine, 
Yes,  by  the  laws  of  everlasting  justice, 
Thy  daily  cup  ! 

For  God  had  made  thee  great, 
As  rich  in  substance  and  most  precious  seed, 
As    some    proud   tree,  whose    heart   shuts  in  the 

promise 

Of  thousand  fragrant  flowers  and  golden  fruit, 
And  yet  thou  wast  but  small,  thy  barren  life 
In  the  few  sickly  blossoms  it  put  forth, 
But  half  fulfilling  the   immortal  bond, 
For  thine  own  heedless  hand  marred  wantonly 
God's  image  in  thy  soul,  until   at  last 
That  very  soul  itself,  long  sapped,  gave  way, 
Bore  down  with  it,  in  its   tremendous  fall, 
Thy  noble  frame,  still  green  in  years  and  honors. 


AFTER  DEATH.  15 

And  yet,  —  oh  thought  of  helpless  anguish  !  —  yet 

It  had  not  been  impossible  to  save  thee, 

Yes,    oh    sweet   stars,    save    thee    for   earth    and 

heaven  ! 
Love  might  have  saved  thee,  —  woman's  love,  — 

a  love  — 

—  Oh  let  me  dare  to  utter  it !  —  like  mine, 
The  deepest,  purest  thou  hadst  ever  known! 
A  love  God  knows,  that  did  not  ask  for  much 
Save  but  the  highest  boon,  —  to  serve  and  cherish 
All  that  was  best  within  thee,  minister 
To  thy  most  noble  needs  and  loftiest  aims, 
Fan  into  life  and  nourish  with  its  breath 
The  all  too  feebly  flickering,  sacred  fire 
Upon  thy  altar,  —  sunk  to  ashes  now, 
Where  lies  the  shrine  in  ruins ! 

Aye,  I  loved  thee, 

And  thou  hadst  guessed  it,  for  I  never  hid 
My  heart  from  thee,  brave  in  its   innocence, 
And    though    thou  daredst    not  wholly  take    that 

heart, 

Yet  couldst  thou  not  reject  it  utterly, 
For  some  fine  instinct  whispered  to  thy  soul 
Thy  sorest  need,  thy  last  undying  hope, 
Was  in  such  love  as  this.  —  Once,  I  remember, 


1 6  BEYOND   THE  SHADOW. 

Hearing  of  it  thy  ready  tears  gushed  forth, 
And  oft  I  know  it  moved  thee  to  perceive 
My  ceaseless,  tender  thought  of  thee,  and  some- 
times 

I  ween  my  trembling  fingers  found  and  struck 
The  deepest  chords  thy  breast  had  left,  yet  oh, 
Even  those  so  faint  they  brought  my  aching  heart 
No  more  content    than  one  poor  drop  of  water 
To     burning     lips    long     parched    with     fevered 

thirst  !  — 

Such  were  my  dearest  joys  !     Without  avail 
Would  my  great  love   have  folded  round  thy  life 
Strong  sheltering  arms  to  keep  thee  from  all  ill ; 
Without  avail  my  soul  reached  out  for  thine 
To  purify,  make  new,  —  in  vain,  in  vain, 
The  effort  hopeless,  yet  divine  !  —  What  power, 
What  very  god  transformed  a  hollow  ring 
To  a  deep  golden  goblet,  that  may  hold 
Unspilled  the  choicest  vintage  of  our  lives, 
A  glistening  pebble  to  a  granite  rock, 
On  whose  eternal  basis  we  may  found 
Our  soul's  salvation  ?  — 

And  long-suffering  love, 

That  had  endured  unnumbered,  nameless  pangs, 
Been   baffled,    bruised,    struck    to    the    heart    of 
hearts 


AFTER  DEATH.  \J 

A  thousand  times,  and  yet  a  thousand  times 
As  by  a  miracle  won  back  to  life,  — 
Sickened  at  last,  and  died  in  sorest  travail, 
Forever  and  past  hope !  —  so  utterly, 
That  when  I  met  thy  dim,  unconscious  gaze 
On  the  last  couch  that  bore  thy  weary  frame,  — 
When  all  was  over,  and  I  knew  the  lips 
That  mine  had  kissed,  rigid  in  death,  —  no  cry 
Sprang  to  these  lips,  wellnigh  as  set  as  thine, 
No  tears  to  these  dry  eyes,  drained  long  ago, 
And  in  the  stony  silence  of  the  heart 
That  had  so  freely  spilled  its  ruddy  life, 
Naught  woke  or  stirred,  save  but  the  feeble  voice 
Of  a  large,  general  pity ! 

And  what  now?  — 

Must  I  surrender  thee,  thy  stricken  soul, 
To  the  chill  love  and  prayers  and  tears  of  her 
Who  bore  thy  name,  but  to  thy  heart  was  dead, 
Or  to  that  other,  not  thy  wife,  and  yet 
The  mother  of  thy  best  beloved  child  ? 
To  any  one,  who,  in  the  garish  sunlight, 
E'er  quaffed  with  thee  the  sparkling  draft  of  joy  ? 
No,  by  great  Heaven,  all  that  is  done  forever  ! 
Those  voiceless  shadows  of  the  vanished  past 
Fall    back    and    fade    from    sight  and  leave  thee 
free, 


1 8  BEYOND    THE  SHADOW. 

All    those    false  ties  are   snapped,  have   dropped 

away 

Even  with  thy  earthly  frame !  —  Now,  now  at  last 
Am  I  thy  sole  companion,  —  I,  O  God, 
Who  never  knew  but  love's  most  bitter  cup  !  — 
Now,  'mid  dread  darkness  and  unbroken  gloom, 
I  claim  the  place  beside  thee,  that  I  won 
In  untold  anguish,  —  claim  it  now  in  joy ! 
For  something  still,  despite  this  double  death 
Of  life  in  thee,  of  love  in  me,  something 
That  cannot  perish  while  my  soul  survives, 
Knits  me  to  thee !  — 

Yet  stay,  —  what  do  I  dream,  — - 
It  may  not  be  !  —  E'en  I  must  stand  aside, 
Thyself  alone  must  work  thine  own  salvation, 
Thou  under  God's  dear  mercy!  —  Ay,  to  His 
Relentless  justice,  yet  unfailing  love, 
Into  His  chastening,  yet  most  tender  Hands, 
Do  I  commit  thy  soul,  and  am  content, 
What   though  from    out    these    barren   eyes  once 

more 
The    blinding    tears    gush   forth,    my    friend,  my 

lover ! 


AFTER  DEATH.  19 

III. 
THE   VOICE    FROM   ABOVE. 

How  long  I  have  been  here,  what  months,  what 

years, 

—  Or  can  it  be  but  many  nights  and  days  ?  — 
What   time   has    passed,  since  I  first  woke    from 

death 

And  wondering  found  myself  on  this  bleak  shore, 
I  may  not  say,  —  or  if  they  count  it  time, 
Or  if  they  call  it  day  or  night  at  all, 
This  endless  interchange  of  pallid  dawn 
And  dusky  twilight,  and  dim  shifting  dark 
That  never  broadens  into  noon  nor  deepens 
To  golden  sunset  or  a  star-filled  night. 
Methinks  a  hundred  thousand  days  like  this* 
Have  risen,  died,  come  again,  slow,  weary,  hope- 
less, 

Amid  my  solitude,  crept  by  at  last, 
Though  how,  I  know  not.  —  Only  this  I  know, 
That  even  as  in  the  ground  shut  far  away 
From  sun   and   star,  there    lies    some  quickening 

seed 

Which  hourly  swells  and  throbs  with  fuller  life, 
Puts  forth  a  delicate  root  —  a  tender  germ  — 


20  BEYOND    THE  SHADOW. 

The  promise  of  a  leaf,  till  round  about 
The  very  earth  that  held  it  captive  long, 
Thrills  as  with  joy  and  parts  to  set  it  free, — 
So  do  I  bear  in  this  dark  breast  of  mine 
Unfolding  more  and  more  from  day  to  day 
The  consciousness,  the  thought,  the  love  of  God, 
Thrice  blessed  be  His  Name! 

And  now  and  then 

There  slowly  filters  through  this  dusk  a  whiteness 
Not  day,  but  like  a  broken  gleam  of  day 
Before  its  fading,  and  around  me  steals 
A  breath  of  faint,  sweet  perfume,  passing  grateful 
Even  as  the  voiceless  presence  of  a  friend, 
Even  as  the  prayers  and  tears  and  loving  thought 
Of  some  most  tender,  faithful  heart !    Yet  whose  ? 
None  lives  that  here  would  follow  such  as  me  ! 
A  subtle  essence,  strange  and  yet  familiar, 
That  sometime,  somewhere  on  the  earth  below 
Methinks  my  grosser   senses  must  have  known 
And  yet  but  half  received.  —  But  when  and  how  ? 
Surely  amid  no  feast  and  revel,  surely 
From  none  of  those,  —  oh  memories  forlorn ! 
Who  in  a  wanton  hour  of  mad  delight 
These   arms   have   clasped,   these   lips,  —  yet  no, 
thank  God  ! 


AFTER  DEATH.  21 

Not  these  :  I  was  made  new !  —  Stay,  let  me  think, 
Strive  to  remember,  —  was  there  no  one  else  ? 
One    who    perchance,  —  yes,  yes,  —  ah,    Heaven, 

't  is  that  — 

I  know  thee  now,  sweet  spirit !  —  It  is  thou, 
My  dearest,  best  of  friends,  my  little  woman, 
Who  send'st  this  message  of  brave  cheer  and  hope, 
Whose  soul  would  seek  and  follow  me  even  here, 
Amid  the  shades  of  death !  —  oh  joy  supreme, 
I  never  dared  to  dream  myself  so  blest, 
Thy  heart,  I  feared,  had  cast  me  off  forever! 

She  was  not  passing  fair,  mayhap,  nor  yet 
In  the  first  flush  of  youth,  —  a  fleeting  glance 
Might  not  have  turned  to  gaze  at  her  again, 
But  mine  soon  learned  to  dwell  with  secret  joy 
Upon  that  noble  face.  —  Her  brow  was  thoughtful, 
And   from    the    quiet,    dark   brown    eyes   looked 

forth 

A  soul  most  honest,  earnest,  deep  and  tender, 
A  virgin  soul  as  pure  as  childhood's  self, 
Untouched  by  all  the  evils  of  the  world, 
A  soul  God  blessed  with  power  to  read  the  truth, 
Simple  in  all  her  ways,  of  gentle  speech, 
—  Ay,  from  the  serious  lips  there  ever  came 
A  low  sweet  voice  and  sometimes  pleasant  laugh- 
ter, — 


22  BEYOND    THE  SHADOW. 

Brave,  patient,  generous,  she  revealed  herself 
A  spirit  rare  and  high,  of  such  fine  mould, 
So  far  above  all  other  creatures  made 
In  woman's  image,  that  had  crossed  my  path, 
So  far,  alas  !    above  my  wretched  self, 
That  all  too  long  my  dull,  corrupted  sense 
Scarce  marked  her  from  the  crowd. 

How  first,  and  when, 
She  came  still  as  a  star,  into  my  life, 
I  do  not  well  remember,  but  methinks 
'Twas  for  some  noble  purpose  of  my  art, 
Wherein   her  heart  was    bound,  like  mine.     And 

after 

Many  a  long  hour,  —  oh  golden  memories, 
Of  those  glad,  unforgotten  days  of  earth !  — 
We  spent  in  earnest  talk,  I  smiling  sometimes, 
In  my  sad  earthly  wisdom  wont   to  call 
Her  aim  too  lofty  and  her  flight  too  high, 
Though  now  I  know,  sweet  Saint,  that   by  those 

laws 

Thy  deeper  insight  strove  to  teach  me  then, 
The  world,  God's  world,  is  ruled,  must   stand  or 

fall! 

That  her  great  soul  was  ever  drawn  to  mine, 
A  rushlight  glimmering  feebly  through  the  dark, 


AFTER  DEATH.  2$ 

Beside  her  own,  no  more,  —  was  passing  strange, 
But  that  she  gave  me  too,  —  let  me  dare  speak, 
What  she  was  not  unwilling  I  should  guess  !  — 
That  stainless  gem  above  all  price,  her  heart,  — 
Me,  a  poor  creature   smirched  with  many  sins, 
Seemed  God's  own  miracle !  —  I  wept  hot  tears 
When    first    I    learned    it,  —  tears    of   wondering 

pity, 

Of  fear,  of  joy,  for  her,  for  me,  us  both, 

And  once,  twice,  thrice,  —  yes,  at  three  different 

times, 

She  put  her  modest  arms  about  my  neck, 
And  her  sweet  lips  to  mine.  —  She  knew  most  well 
I  could  not  claim  her,  though  not  all  dark  ties 
That  held  me  bound,  and  yet  God's  purest  angels, 
While    the    dim    earth   has    stood    with    Heaven 

above, 

Recorded  not  a  holier  kiss  than  that 
On  our  sad  wedded  lips  !  —  The   heavy  heart 
To  which  I  clasped  thee,  little  woman,  thrilled 
With  sudden,  unknown  hope,  — for  one  brief  hour 
It    seemed    that   touch   had   purged   me  from  all 

taint, 

Sin  dropped  away,  I  walked  a  new-made  man, 
Redeemed,  blest,  sanctified  !  —  But,  oh,  God  help 

me  ! 


24  BEYOND    THE  SHADOW. 

Even  then  I  sank  again  :  the  thought  of  thee, 
Thy  voice,    thy  face,  drowned  in  wild    pleasure's 

tide, 

Forgot  the  benediction  of  thy  lips 
Amid  accursed  kisses!     Ay,  past  doubt, 
A  thousand  times  some  coarser  strain  in  me 
Jarred  rudely  on  thy  soul,  —  yes,  now  and  then, 
I  caught  a  troubled  shadow  in  thine  eyes !  — 
Until  thy  delicate  spirit  must  have  turned 
In  loathing  from  the  bitter  cup  whereof 
It  drained  so  deep  a  draught ! 

And  yet  for  all, 

She  never  wholly  knew,  nor  I  confessed, 
How  dear,  how  precious,  what  a  blessed  part 
Of  all  my  deepest  life,  she  grew  to  be, 
How  all  my  nobler  nature  clave  to  her 
With    strong   and   stronger   tendrils.  —  'Mid    the 

throng 

Of  eager,  upturned  faces  wont  to  greet  me 
Night  after  night,  —  for  I  was  one  of  those 
Who    on  the  stage  which  mimics  life,  show  forth 
The  passions  and  the  pains  and  joys   of  men,  — 
It  was  her  eyes  I  sought  and  loved  to  find 
With   their  still,    earnest    gaze,    that    marked,    I 

knew, 


AFTER  DEATH.  2$ 

Each  lofty  effort  and  each  finer  touch,  — 
Her  praise  and  very  blame  I  loved  to  hear 
Better  than  hollow  thunders  of  applause 
Too  easily  won.  —  In  lonely  hours,  her  face 
Oft  rose  before  me,  sweet  yet  sorrowful, 
And  sometimes  suddenly  rilled  me  with  a  strange 
Unutterable  yearning,  sharp  as  death, 
And  when  I  broke,  and  to  my  puzzled  brain 
The  strands  of  life  grew  tangled  hopelessly, 
All  the  bleak  world  transformed  to  shifting  chaos, 
Where  my  dim  vision  strained  to  grasp  and  hold 
Some  distinct  form,  some  gleam  of  steady  light,  — 
—  It  was  her  image  that  stood  clearly  out, 
Pure,  radiant,  beautiful,  from  all  that  maze 
Of  never-lifting  cloud.  — 

And  now,  and  now,  — 
What   though   I  trembling   thought  that   all   was 

ended 

Forever,  —  yet  she  comes  to  me  again,  — 
Oh,  Heaven,  what  may  I  hope,  what  glean  there- 
from ? 
That  still,  —  that  she  even  now  — 

My  God,  my  Father  ! 
If  in  Thy  infinite  mercy  Thou  wilt  deign 


26  BEYOND   THE  SHADOW. 

To  hearken  to  the  humblest  of  Thy  children, 

Receive  a  prayer  wrung  from  the  deepest  heart 

Of  him  whom  now  no  earthly  passion  moves,  — 

—  Upon  my  bended  knees  I  here  implore  Thee, 

If  it  be  possible  somehow,  sometime, 

In  the  long  course  of  all  eternity, 

That  I  grow  less  unworthy,  —  I  will  wait 

And  hope  and  serve  with  never-failing  patience,  — 

Oh,  mayhap  in  a  thousand,  thousand  years, 

My  God,  my  Father,  —  give  her  then  to  me ! 


IV. 

SECOND   VOICE   FROM   ABOVE. 

AY,  let  us  pause  here  for  a  while,  Sweet   Soul, 
Upon  this  gentle  hill  'neath  spreading  trees, 
Where    towards    the    left    lie    the     wide     happy 

fields, 

Flushed  with  the  mellow   light   of   evening  now, 
Skirting  the  wood,  o'er  whose  dim  golden  path 
Our  Loves  shall  come  to  us,  —  and  on  the  right 
We  may  look  upward,  downward,  everywhere 
Into  immeasurable  crystal  space  ! 
—  Yes,  this  is  well ;  sit  here  with  thy  dear  hand 
Close  clasped  in  mine ! 


AFTER  DEATH.  2 7 

See  where,  far,  far  below, 
Floats  like  a  tiny,  troubled  cloud  the  earth, 
The   poor,   bleak  earth,  our  former  home !     Oh, 

sometimes 

Even  here,  in  all  this  infinite  content, 
A  nameless  pity  seizes  on  my  heart 
For    those  who   still   'mid   doubt   and  fear    and 

darkness 
Grope   their  blind  pathway  through  that  vale   of 

tears  ! 

And  yet  God  lives  to  them,  even  as  He  lived 
To  thee,  to  me,  —  the  same  Immortal  Hope 
He  ever  proved  since  earth  came  from  His  hands, 
To  all  who,  rising  over  death  triumphant, 
Have  entered  here  at  last !  — 
\ 

Friend,  thou  hast  prayed  me 
Sometime  to  tell  thee  of  myself,  of  how 
I  lost  and  won  my  Love  —  him  who  next  God 
Makes  Heaven  to  me,  and  everlasting  life  ! 
I  will  so  now,  —  the  memories  of  earth 
Are  strong  upon  me,  —  tell  thee  all,  but  yet 
Briefly  as  may  be  !  — -  'T  is  a  sad,  dark  tale, 
Oh,  infinite  darker,  sadder  than  thine  own, 
Indeed,  indeed,  though  thou  look'st  up  at  me 
With  gentle  wonder  in  thy  happy  eyes ! 


28  BEYOND   THE  SHADOW. 

When  thy  dear  Love  died  for  his  country's  weal, 
Struck  by  a  shot  that  slew  two  lives  in  one, 
Thou  as  thy  heart  broke,  gazing  on  the  face 
That  smiled  no  more,  hadst  yet  one  drop  of  joy, 
Exceeding  joy,  in  thy  most  bitter  cup,  — 
Your  mutual,  holy,  pure  and  single  love, 
The  thought  his   stainless   soul  went   straight   to 

God, 

Thy  image  there  undimmed,  the  parting  breath 
Upon  his  lips,  thy  name  !  —  But  I,  but  I 
Lived  and  loved  on,  knowing  that  he  I  loved 
Was  all  unworthy  of  my  love,  as  men 
Had  blindly  said,  though  God  judged  otherwise,  — 
That  stifling  nobler  promptings,  he  had  fallen 
From  honor  and  high  virtue  countless  times,  — 
That  having  wife  and  child  his  arms  had  clasped 
—  God  wot  how  oft !  —  fair  other  forms,  his  lips 
Kissed  other  lips  than  theirs,  in  wanton  hours 
Of  idle  pleasure  !  —  Oh,  yet  let  me  pause, 
Enough,    enough  !  —  Spare   me  from   telling  fur- 
ther 
What  but  to  think  on  hurts !  — 

I  knew  all  this, 
And  shrank  from  him,  —  scorned,  pitied,  judged, 

condemned, 
Yet  loved  him  still !  —  This  was  my  sin,  perchance, 


AFTER  DEATH.  39 

And  if  it  was,  O  God,  I  paid  its  price 
In  tears  of  blood !  — 

Nay,  Friend,  let  not  thy  heart 
Be  over-troubled,  nor  thy  brow  grow  dark ! 
Pray  clearly  understand  it  was   not  thus 
When  first  I  saw  him  !  —  then  I  knew  of  naught, 
Not  even  he  was  wed.  —  Ay,  poor,  pale  Shade 
Who  bore  his  name,  yet  to  his  heart  was  dead 
Long  years  before  he  looked  upon  my  face, 
Thou  know'st  I  never  wronged  thee,  Jt  was  not  I 
Who  won  his  soul  from  thee !     I  loved  not  him, 

—  Or  so  I  thought  at  first,  —  who  loved  not  me, 

—  Nay,  I  am  sure,  nor  then  nor  till  long  after ! 
But  his  great  art,  I  fancied,  drew  my  heart 
With  power  resistless,  and  too  boldly  brave, 

I  blindly  followed  till  it  was  too  late, 

Till  I  had  drained  again  and  yet  again 

The  poisoned  cup  that  proved  so  deadly  sweet, 

Till  my  poor  soul  was  hopeless  knit  with  his 

For  all  eternity !  — 

Long,  long,  I  tell  thee, 
I  never  knew  but  all  was  well  with  him, 
Fondly  believing  that  it  must  be  so. 
For  something  in  his  voice  and  eye  and  smile, 


30  BEYOND   THE  SHADOW. 

The  grave  and  yet  most  gracious  presence,  full 
Of    generous    sweetness   and    mild   warmth   and 

light, 

For  these  alone  I  ever  found  in  him,  — 
Even  as  an  autumn  day  of  golden  sunshine, 
Though  sometimes   dashed,   to   eyes   as  keen   as 

mine, 

With  sudden  sadness.  —  Ay,  all,  all,  I  say, 
Seemed  to  make  answer  to  a  secret  question  :  — 
Whatever  pangs  and  bitterness  life  brought, 
His  heart  is  stainless,  and  his  mind  attuned 
To  lofty  purpose,  —  into  his  dear  keeping 
Would  I  entrust  my  own  immortal  soul ! 
—  Nor  did  I  wholly  err  !  —  For  oh,  in  truth, 
He  was  most  nobly,  richly,  greatly  planned, 
Full  of  the  seeds  of  all  divinest  things, 
His  deepest  wrong  to  be  too  easily  won 
From  the  fair  heights  he  clearly  saw  above, 
To  low  and  lower  levels,  till,  methinks 
His  better  angel  must  have  wept  beholding 
The  radiant  image  of  the  Lord  he  knew 
And  yet  denied,    trailed    through    the    common 

dust! 

But  late  I  say,  and  by  most  slow  degrees, 
The  knowledge  and  conviction  that  in  him, 


AFTER  DEATH.  31 

Him  too,  there  dwelled  a  taint  of  odious  sin, 
Broke  on  my  doubting  spirit,  which  believed 
And  hoped  in  him,  past  evidence  and  proof. 
But  when  they  came,  and  I  could  doubt  no 

longer, 

Oh  Godf,  what  tempests  and  wild  bursts  of  tears, 
What  hours  of  anguish  and  heart-broken  prayer, 
What  travail  of  the  spirit,  gasping,  stifling 
For  light  and  air,  amid  unbroken  night, 
Till  reason  like  a  feebly  flickering  torch 
Wind  -  blown    and    rain  -  drenched,    seemed    nigh 

spent,  sometimes  ! 

If  it  be  true  we  must  to  Hell  descend 
Ere  we  may  after  find  the  path  to   Heaven, 
I  drank  its  bitter,  maddening  waters  then,  — 
—  If  once  within  the  lives  of  all  there  comes 
A  Passion,  in  some  humble  way  recalling 
The  pangs  of  Him  who  suffered  on  the  Cross, 
That  was  my  Calvary  !  — 

Nay,  nay,  Sweet  Soul, 

Thou  say'st  I  'm  white  and  tremble,  and  I   feel 
Thy  loving  arms  steal  round  me  tenderly! 
'Tis  strange  mayhap,  these  memories  of  old 
Should  have  such  power  to  shake  me  thus  even 
now ! 


32  BEYOND   THE  SHADOW. 

—  But  think  upon  some  gentle  fawn,  hedged  in 
By  forest  fires,  whose  cruel  tongues  of  flame 
Do  merciless  scorch  and  gnaw  its  tender  vitals, 
Till  blinded,  breathless,  mad  with  writhing  pangs, 
It  turns  and  turns  again  to  find  escape, 

And  meets  but  blazing  death  on  every  hand !  — 

—  Or  on  a  new-fledged  bird,  his  delicate  breast 
Transfixed  by  some  fierce  thorn,  that  as  in  vain 
He  fluttering,  bleeding,  strives  to  break  away, 
Pierces  but  deeper  through  the  quivering  flesh,  — 
And  thou  may'st  guess,  perchance  —  Yet  no,  no, 

no! 

All  these  have  but  the  sting  of  outward  pain, 
No  sense  of  subtler  and  more  awful  anguish, 
No  image  but  itself  can  serve  to  show 
The  aching,  bleeding,  bursting  heart,  the  tortures 
Of  the  despairing  soul  wellnigh  undone, 
Struck  in  its  deepest  and  most  sacred  life, 
By  touching  evil !  —  Of  a  soul  born  white 
By  Heaven's   dear  grace,   and  loathing  unclean 

things, 
Yet    sickening   'neath  the   thought,  —  mayhap  I, 

too, 

Shall  perish  now,  shall  be  attainted,  smirched, 
Till  God  Himself  shall  turn  His  Face   from  me, 
Through   love   of    him  who    turned    from   God ! 

And  yet, 


AFTER  DEATH.  33 

For  all  and  all,  through  hell  and  death  and  dark- 
ness, 

Distracted,  shuddering,  shrinking,  still  compelled 
To  follow  and  to  love !  —  Oh,  Sweetest  Soul, 
Believe  me,  oh  believe  me,  who  through  him 
Wellnigh    myself  have  known  its  mortal  pangs, 
There  is  no  ill,  no  loss,  no  death,  save  sin  ! 

Yet  is  't  not  written,  Love  shall  conquer  Death, 
Ay,  even  the  death  of  deaths  ?  —  So  love  lived  on, 
Dwelled  with  me  still,  an  hourly  agony, 
As  Saints  of  old  't  is  said  were  wont  to  wear 
A  belt  of  chafing  nettles  next  their  heart,  — 
Lived  on  despite  of  thousand  wounds  it  suffered, 
Though  at  each  fierce,  unworthy  stab  I  thought  — 
This  is  the  end  !  —  Now,  now  it  bleeds  to  death, 
And  so  most  well !  —  Or  it  or  I  must  perish  ! 
A  hundred  times  I  deemed  the  victory  mine, 
Believed  that  all  indeed  for  aye  was  over, 
Oh  but  to  find  myself  a  hundred  times 
Deceived  in  that  most  hopeless,  vain  conceit !  — 
Again  and  yet  again  with  twofold  force, 
With  new-found  life,  triumphantly  it  rose, 
Even  like  a  spring  long  flowing  underground 
Bursts  forth  at  last  past  human  power  to  stay, 
Like    that  charmed  tree  from  whose   immortal 
trunk 


34  BEYOND    THE  SHADOW. 

For   one   poor    twig  lopped    off,   sprang    twenty 

branches 
In  richest  leaf  and  flower. 

And  thus  indeed, 

The  end  drew  nigh,  —  nay,  not  of  love  to  me, 
But  life  to  him,  still  green  in  years  and  honors. 
The  end  yet  the  beginning;  for  from  death, 
What  has  been  called  so  with  most  ill  a  title, 
Sprang  new,  immortal  life  to  both  of  us. 
To  him  redemption  came ;  to  me,  when  earth 
Had  closed  above  his  head,  deep,  infinite  peace 
In  the  blest  thought  —  Whatever  now  betide, 
,He  is  with  God !  —  no  longer  tossed  and  fretted 
'Mid  the  fierce  heats  of  the   tumultuous  world 
That  all  too  easily  lured  and  conquered   him  ! 
And  then  with  nameless  joy  broke  on  my  heart, 
Like  a  slow,  radiant  dawn,  the  consciousness, — 
He  lives,  I  love  him,  oh  and  under  God, 
My  love  may  help  him  in  the  sore  probation, 
That  by  all  laws  of  everlasting  justice 
Must  now  be  his  !  —  Help  him  I  know  not  how, 
Yet  God's  dear  mercy  does,  —  He  will   dispose  ! 

Thus  patiently,  at  peace,  and  full  of  hope, 
I  lingered  on  the  earth,  whose  sun  had  fled, 
For  ten  years  more.  — To  him  he  says  they  were 


AFTER  DEATH. 


35 


As  twenty  thousand,  while  in  gloomy   twilight, 
'Mid  pangs  unspeakable,  he  toiled  alone 
At  that  tremendous,  never-ending  task, 
The  saving  of  his  soul,  —  but  faint  of  heart, 
And  nigh  despairing  sometimes,  yet  sustained 
To  feel  how  slowly,  surely,  day  by  day, 
God's  image  ever  grew  within  that  soul, 
And  by  my  love  that  followed,  sought  him  out, 
On  strange,  mysterious,  dim  and  awful  paths, 
And  dwelled  beside  him,  never  seen  nor  heard, 
Yet  ever  by  some  swift,  unerring  sense 
Made  known  to  him. 

And  thus  there  came  at  last 
The  happy  day  wherein  I  too  was  called, 
When  from  me  too  there  dropped  away  forever 
The  poor,  worn  raiments  of  mortality. 
—  On  a  green  bank,  beside  a  gentle  stream, 
I  first  awoke  again  from  that  brief  sleep 
They  call  eternal  there  below,  —  awoke 
To  find  a  loved,  lost,  unforgotten  form 
Kneeling  beside  me,  bending  over  me,  — 
To  meet  an  eye  radiant  with  infinite  love, — 
His  form,  his  face,  his  eye  !  —  His,  his,  oh  God, 
Saved,  purified,  redeemed,  made  whole  and  new 
By  Thy  deep  miracle  of  Grace,  surpassing, 


36  BEYOND   THE  SHADOW. 

Incomprehensible  !  —  Oh  Friend,  Sweet  Soul, 
What  need  to  say  aught  more,  or  strive  to  paint 
The  tearful  storm  of  blinding  ecstasy, 
Wherewith  we  rushed  into  each  other's  arms,  — 
Speechless,  yet  knowing  all !  — 

My  tale  is  told, 
And   those  dark  memories  fade  and  flee   behind 

me, 
Never,  mayhap,  to  be  called  up  again  ! 

—  Look  thou,  the  golden  flush  of  evening  deepens 
O'er  hill  and  vale  and  stream,  and  see,  ah  see, 
There  from  the  lengthening  shadows  of  the  wood, 
Come  our  dear  Loves  !  —  Mine  with   the  stately 

step, 

And  royal  mien,  and  selfsame  sunny  smile, 
That  won  me  first !  —  Oh,  I  beseech  thee,  Friend, 
Call  me  not  foolish,  nor  yet  smile  in  turn, 
But  to  this  hour  I  cannot  always  look 
Without  glad  tears  on  that  most  noble  form, 
That  now  indeed  but  visibly  shows  forth 
A  soul  divine  as  God  has  ever  made  !  — 

—  Ah,  they  perceive  us  now,  and  beckon   to  us, 
Hastening  their  steps  !  —  Oh   come,  Sweet  Soul, 

arise, 
And  let  us  go  to  meet  them  !  —  Love,  my  Love  ! 


A  MAIDEN'S  QUESTION. 

O    STRANGE    love!    if  this    be    loving    such    as 

bards  have  sung  for  aye, 
Since    the    world    their    songs    have   gladdened, 

sprang  from  darkness  into  day ! 

—  Naught  in  all  that  world  more   grateful  music 

to  my  thirsting  ear 

Than    his    name    and   fame    and    praises  loudly 
echoed  far  and  near ; 

Naught    in    all  the  world  more  joyful    tiding    to 

my  waiting  soul 
Than    to    know   him    nigh    who    wanders   like  a 

star  from  pole  to  pole. 

—  Yet   when    satisfied  my  yearning,  face  to  face 

with  him  I  stand, 

See    his    sunny  smile   of  welcome,  feel  the  pres- 
sure of  his  hand,  — 


38  BEYOND    THE  SHADOW. 

Then  my  steady  eye  unfaltering  his  clear  glance 

can  rise  to  meet, 
No    swift    flutter    stirs    my  pulses,  my  still  heart 

no  quickened  beat. 

No    fine    sense    of    heightened    being,    no   deep 

thrill  of  ecstasy, 
No  unutterable  rapture,  with  his  nearness  comes 

to  me. 

Only  peace,  —  a  calm  assurance,  whence  or  how 

I  cannot  tell, 
Through  his  power  of  noble   manhood  all   things 

must  be  passing  well. 

All  the  currents  flow  harmonious  in  the  world  I 

half  forget, 
Grown  so  brave  I  go  unflinching  even  from  him 

without  regret. 

Yet  when  I  have  turned  and    left    him,  and    his 

form  is  lost  to  sight,  — 
Oh,  how  fade  from  all  about  me,  brightness,  color, 

life,  and  light! 


A   MAIDEN'S  QUESTION.  39 

As  when  dies  a  strain  of  music  on  a    sad,   gray 

evening  shore, 
Heaven  and   earth    grow  blank   and  dreary  with 

his  presence  seen  no  more ; 

Till  from  out  the  dimness  slowly  gathering  shape 

and  living  hue, 
His    dear    image,    clear  as  morning,  rises  on  my 

inward  view. 

Steals  from  night  the  sleep  I  gladly  offer   up  as 

I  retrace 
Every    look    and    tone,  —  each    fleeting  light  or 

shadow  on  his  face ; 

Fills    the    day   to    overflowing  with    unspeakable 

content, 
Lets  the  hours  seem  rich  that  idly  dreaming  but 

of  him  were  spent ; 

Gives    all  life    a  patient  courage  no  dark  power 

shall  now  destroy, 
For  the  thought  of   him  has  made  me  strong  in 

everlasting  joy. 


40  BEYOND    THE  SHADOW. 

So  the  year  rolls  round  fulfilling  my  fond    hope, 

—  we  meet  once  more, 
And  the  peace,  the  sadness,  gladness,  steal  upon 

me  as  before. 

O  dear  bards  who  sing  of  loving,  —  or  your- 
selves, great  gods  above,  — 

Solve  unto  my  soul  this  riddle,  —  help  me,  — 
tell  me,  —  is  this  love  ? 


SURRENDER. 

AWAY,  heart-breaking  struggle,  vain  control ! 

Wholly,  without  reserve,  resistlessly, 

I  yield  for  all  eternity  my  soul, 

Oh  deathless  current  of  my  love,  to  thee ! 

Whose  throbbing  waves  about  me  swell  and  roll 

Like  the  dark  waters  of  a  fretful  sea, 

Never,  'neath  sun's  glow,  nor  the  stars'  cold  light, 

Sleeping  or  resting,  day  or  dawn  or  night ! 

Yet  oh,  dear  miracle !  —  what  once  most  sore 
And  deadly  conflict  made  me,  such  fierce  fray, 
That  broken,  breathless,  bleeding   at  each  pore, 
I   through  its  sullen  fury  scarce  .my  way 
Clove  to  some  shelter  on  the  barren  shore,  — 
Now  bears  me  in  a  gently  rocking  sway, 
And    laps    me  with    soft  ripples,  that  my  breast 
Play  round  about,  with  grateful  sense  of  rest. 


42  BEYOND    THE   SHADOW. 

Oh  blest  surrender !     Passing  sweet  release 
From  aching  toil,  but  thou  abandonment 
Couldst  bring    the    storm-tossed    soul,    to  whom 

surcease 

Of  pain  is  joy !  —  Whereto  thy  course  is  bent, 
I  care  not !  —  Bear  me  to  despair  or  peace, 
Life,  death,  or  infinite  bliss,  I  am  content 
To  drift  forever  thus,  wide  heaven  above, 
On  thy  deep  current,  oh  my  deathless  love ! 


YEARNING. 

I  LAID  my  ear  close  to  the  cold,  bare  ground, 
Where  grow  the  sturdy  oak  and  branching  vine, 
Listening  if  at  their  roots  might  not  be  found 
A  feeble  stir,  though  in  the  air  the  fine 
Sharp  breath  of  winter  lingered  still.     And  ay, 
Methought  that  deep,  deep  down,  faint,  far  away 
Even  as  the  warble  of  a  bird,  so  high 
Lost  in  the  stainless  blue  of  dewy  day 
That  eye  may  never  follow  it,  I  caught 
A  fluttering  throb  of  new,  sweet  life  set  free 
And     soon     to     quicken     swelling    buds.  —  Oh 

thought 

Of  rapture  and  divinest  ecstasy, 
Oh  blest,  unfailing  promise,  that  must  bring 
The  light  and  lays  and  fragrant  blossoming, 
All  nameless  joys  of  golden,  white-starred  Spring ! 

Oh  could  I  thus  upon  thy  great,  warm  heart, 
Rich  in  the  noblest  pith  of  manhood's  flower, 
Where  strength  and  tenderness  have  equal  part, 


44  BEYOND    THE  SHADOW. 

Lay  down  my  yearning  head  for  one  brief  hour ! 
And    catch    each    faintest     sound    that     upward 

stole 

With  eager  ear,  and  find  if  there  below, 
In  the  most  secret  pulses  of  thy  soul, 
Where  the  deep  founts  of  life  and  being  flow, 
There  stirs,  mayhap,  faint,  dim,  and  far  away 
Even  as  the  distant  Spring's  sweet  ecstasy, 
'Mid  the  chill  breath  of  some  dark  winter-day, 
A  quickening  thrill  of   answering  love  for  me  ! 
—  Oh  bliss  unspeakable,  undream  ed,  untold  ! 
I  have  no  answer  but  the  gushing  tear, 
To  what  in  one  sweet  whisper  would  unfold 
The  blossomed  wealth  of  all  the  rolling  year, 
Oh  thou  who  by  a  breath  transfiguring 
All  heaven  and  earth,  my  thirsting    soul   couldst 

bring, 
The  deathless  joys  of  everlasting  Spring ! 


A   FLOWER   OF   HOPE. 

SITTING  that  day  before  the  ruddy  fire, 

He  read  what  to  my  eager  soul  was  sweet 

As  honey  to  the  lips,  and  melody 

To  the  charmed  ear,  —  praise  of  his  noble  art 

And  high  achievements.     For  a  little  time 

The  deep,  rich  cadences  rolled  smooth  and  strong, 

Like  a  broad  river  gentle  in  its  power; 

But  suddenly  the  even,  steadfast  voice 

Faltered  and  fell  and  ceased,  and  looking  up, 

I  in  mute,  startled  wonderment  beheld 

The  clear  eyes  dim  with  overbrimming  tears ! 

Oh  friend,  dear  friend,  forgive  the  yearning  soul, 
That  reaches  out  towards  thine 
With  every  fibre  thrilling  and  aglow, 
And  yet  could  not  divine 

What  in  that  sad,  sweet  hour  stirred  secretly, 
The  well-springs  of  thy  heart !  — 


46  BEYOND   THE  SHADOW. 

Was  it  the  coming  hour  when  we  must  speak 
A  brief  farewell  and  part  ? 

Or  the  dim  consciousness  that  thou  and  I 
Could  never  meet  again 

Giving  the  same  frank  clasp  of  hands  wherewith 
We  met  and  parted  then  ?  — 

Never  again,  while  the  mute  lips  of  both 
Must  hold  in  silence  sealed, 
Untold,  unbreathed,  all  that  the  braver  eye 
Had  mayhap  half  revealed  ?  — 

Ah,  who    shall   guess  ?  —  I  only  know  that  from 
Those  dear,  dark  tears  of  thine 
Sprang  a  pale,  tender,  trembling  flower  of  hope, 
So  frail  and  over-fine, 

And  yet  so  fragrant,  that  though  one  rude  blast 

Smote  it  with  sudden  death, 

I  dare  not  let  the  intoxicated  sense 

Drink  in  its  full,  sweet  breath ; 

I  dare  not  tend,  nor  yet  can  let  it  fade 
In  rain  or  drought  or  sun, 


A   FLOWER   OF  HOPE.  47 

Lest  as  it  drooped  and  died,  my  own  poor  soul 
Were  utterly  undone  ! 

For   through  thy  tears,   oh   friend,  were   in  that 

soul 

The  secret  streams  set  free 

Of  all  that  deepest  life  which  sets  towards  thine 
Through  all  eternity ! 


INSUFFICIENCY. 

LIKE    a    harp  where   the    Great    Master  set  rich 

chords  both  deep  and  strong, 
That    give    forth    heroic    measures,  kingly    chant 

and  solemn  song,  — 

But  some  finer  strings  are  missing,  never  set,  or 
it  may  be 

Snapped  in  early  days  and  tender,  by  some  tem- 
pest ruthlessly, — 

Is    thy    soul,    oh    my    Beloved !    ever    rendering 

back  to  mine, 
But  a  strange,  harsh  tune  I  know  not,  from  those 

chords  more  strong  than  fine. 

Yet    beloved    still !  —  ay    better,  than  if  all  were 

well  with  thee, 
Fonder,  truer,  oh   my  darling,  for  the  need  thou 

hast  of  me  ! 


INSUFFICIENCY.  49 

For  thou  need'st  me,  "thirstest  for  me,  oh  my 
harp  with  missing  strings, 

As  we  thirst  for  cooling  waters  from  Life's  Ever- 
lasting Springs! 

Those  deep  chords    thrill  with  a  yearning,  haply 

to  themselves  unknown, 
To  respond  in  rarest  music,  to  the   sweetness  of 

my  own. 

Oh,    and    sometime  when   dim    earth -life   fades 

from  out  our  gladdened  view, 
The  great  Master  Hand  shall  gently  fashion  thee, 

dear  harp,  anew! 

To  my  faithful  hand  committing  that  fair,  per- 
fect instrument, 

Till  our  strings  together  chiming,  in  one  raptu- 
rous song  are  blent, 

And  thus  blending,  oh  Beloved,  make  such  heav- 
enly harmony, 

Chanting  angel-choirs  shall,  pausing,  joyful  list 
to  thee  and  me ! 


SONNETS. 

i. 

I  CANNOT  lose  thee !  Though  we  dwelled  apart 
Leagues  upon  leagues  of  endless  sea  and  shore, 
Though  through  long  years  no  message  came  that 

bore 

Of  thee  glad  tidings,  telling  where  thou  art,  — 
Still  thy  dumb  absence  could  not  bring  a  smart 
To  my  brave  soul,  for  from  its  inmost  core 
Springs  the  fine  band  that  knits  us  evermore. 
A  hopeful  patience,  foreign  to  the  heart 
Wont  to  rush  forward  all  too  eagerly, 
Goes  with  me  day  and  night,  a  faith  sublime 
As  deep  as  life,  more  strong  than  death  or  time, 
Till  what  divides  us  now,  the  sky  and  sea 

Themselves,  seem  to  repeat  the  blest  refrain,  — 
So  sure  as  God  lives,  we  shall  meet  again ! 


SONNETS. 


I  cannot  lose  thee !     Though   between   thy  heart 
And  mine  a  legion  of  black  phantoms  lay, 
Like  a  grim  host  of  foes  in  war's  array, — 
In  vain  the  bristling  lance  or  swift-winged  dart, 
To  strike  my  dauntless  soul  a  bleeding  smart. 
No  earthly  power  my  eagerness  could  stay 
From  cutting  through  ten  thousand  foes  a  way 
That  should  unerring  lead  me  where  thou  art, 
Armed  by  the  faith  sublime  that  thou  and  I 
Are  knit  by  bands  that  time  and  death  defy, 
Invincible,  as  to  my  ear  grows  plain 
What  must  ere  long  roll  forth  a  loud  refrain, 
Swelling  to  heaven  from  joyous  sea  and  shore,  — 
So  sure  as  God  lives,  we  shall  part  no  more  ! 


THE  FACE  OF  GOD. 

TO . 

Lo !  from  the  deep  of  the  fair,  cloudless  sky, 
Where  thy  proud  sun  of  fame 
In  undimmed  noonday  splendor  blazed  on  high, 
Close  to  the  stars,  —  there  came 

A  swift-winged  dart  that  pierced  thy  panoply, 
And  bade  thee  kiss  the  ground, 
And  brought  a  cloud  whose  shadow  suddenly 
Quenched  all  the  brightness  round. 

Till  rising  on  one  knee  with  blinded  sight, 
Thou  an  imploring  hand 

Throw'st  out,  as  if  to  stay  the  smarting  night 
Thou  canst  not  understand. 

And  yet  rejoice,  my  stricken  King,  as  I 
With  all  my  soul  rejoice, 


THE  FACE   OF  GOD.  53 

For  in  that  shadow  draws  a  Presence  nigh 
And  sounds  an  awful  Voice, 

That  we  may  not  perceive,  Beloved  One, 
When  fair  are  sky  and  sod, 
When  all  too  dazzling  shines  the  noonday  sun 
That  hides  the  Face  of  God! 


A  WELL  OF   SORROW. 

AH,  the  memory  of  thy  living  and  thy  dying,  dear 
my  friend, 

Of  thy  manhood  warped  and  broken,  of  the  bit- 
ter, hopeless  end, — 

Is  like   some  black  well,  one  instant  flashing  in 

the  sun's  glad   light 
'Neath  a  shower  of  golden   sparkles,   soon  gone 

out  in  gloomier  night! 

Like  a  well  of  sorrow,  quenchless,  never  yet  run 

low  or  dry, 
Where  our  thoughts  like  doves,  though  wheeling 

with  white  wings  against  the  sky 

Fair    with    blue   and   warm  with   sunshine,    still 

drawn  hither  evermore, 
Come    to   drink    of  grief  like   water,   from   that 

deep,  exhaustless  store. 


A    WELL   OF  SORROW.  55 

Ay,  so  deep  and  dark  and  bitter,  one  small  drop 

shall  have  the  power, 
Even    when   tides   of   life  run   highest,   in   some 

maddest,  merriest  hour, 

Swift  as  death  to  wilt  the  roses  twined  about  the 

goblet's  brim, 
Hush  the  jest,  the  song,  the  laughter,  make   the 

lustrous  eye  grow  dim, 

Send  the  chill  of  disenchantment  to  the  sudden 

sobered  heart, 
Fill  it  with  a  secret  hunger,  but  to  sit  and  weep 

apart, 

Weep  while  life  endures  and  memory,  tears  wrung 

from  our  souls  like  blood. 
And  yet,    lo  !  —  thus   gazing   downward   far   into 

that  troubled  flood, 

We  behold  with  joyful  wonder,  that  where  shad- 
ows thickest  press, 

There  our  love  and  grief  and  yearning,  and  the 
infinite  tenderness 


56  BEYOND    THE  SHADOW. 

Of  the   God   of  passing  Mercy,    on   that  fount's 

black  bosom  shine, 
Clearly  mirrored,  never  shaken,  radiant  like  sweet 

stars  divine  I 


THROUGH   THE   MIDNIGHT  SKY. 

THROUGH  the  faint-gleaming  midnight  sky, 
Deep  beyond  deep  above, 
My  yearning  soul  soars  up  on  high, 
To  seek  thy  soul,  O  Love ! 

Thy  soul  to  joy  or  sorrow  bound, 
Which  dwells  I  know  not  where, 
Only  that  it  is  folded  round 
By  God's  eternal  care. 

And  that  this  hour  He  sets  thee  free, 
Even  from  the  furthest  star 
Through  boundless  space  to  come  to  me 
Who  wait  thee,  from  afar. 

And  by  the  sudden  touch  of  fire 
That  on  my  heart  is  laid, 
Till  with  the  strength  of  its  desire 
It  trembles,  half  afraid,  — 


58  BEYOND    THE  SHADOW. 

I  know  while  swiftly  draw  more  nigh, 
The  gleaming  deeps  above, 
Our  souls  beneath  the  silent  sky 
Have  met  and  kissed,  O  Love! 


GOD'S    PEACE. 

DEAD  !     A  great  hope  is  dead 
From  whose  fair  eyes  o'er  all  the  years  to  come, 
A  starry  light  was  shed ;  — 
The  smile  forever  fled, 
The  soft  voice  hushed,  the  lips  grown  white  and 

dumb, 
Cold  the  warm  hands  that  wove  bright,  fragrant 

flowers, 

Even   through  the   thorns   of   day's   most  weary 
hours  ! 

Oh  heart,  how  desolate ! 

Where  the  tear-blinded,  helpless  eye  may  turn, 
Earth,  sea  and  sky,  so  late 
In  all  the  royal  state 
Of  Springtime's  full-flushed  splendors  wont  to 

burn, 

Sunk  to  gray  ashes,  now  that  beauteous  head, 
Strewed  with  dim  dust,  lies  in  its  narrow  bed! 


60  BEYOND    THE  SHADOW. 

But,  oh  sweet  marvel !  —  low 
About  the  grave,  'mid  blighting  frost  and  rime 
Still  brave  with  purple  glow, 
Courage  and  patience  grow; 
And,  green  through  Winter  and  through  Summer 

time, 

Faith  high,  immortal  stands, 
With  upward  pointing  hands, 
A    noble    tree,    through    whose    broad-spreading 

crown 
God's  Peace,  like  golden  sunshine,  filters  down. 


HYMN. 

I  THINK  Thou  lovest  me,  Lord, 

For  thy  dear  mercy  all  my  pains  hath  cured,  — 
Nay,  granted  me  exceeding  great  reward 

For  .the  sharp  ills  endured. 

I  think  it  by  the  joy 

That  fills  my  soul  on  this  dark  winter  day, — 
The  golden  peace  no  grief  shall  now  destroy, 

No  tempest  blow  away. 

The  thorns  that  pricked  me  sore 

Turned    in   my  hands   to   blossoms  white   and 

sweet, 
The  flinty  stones  my  pathway  led  me  o'er, 

Soft  turf  beneath  my  feet. 

The  cup  of  gall  has  grown  — 

Oh,  passing  miracle  !  —  to  honeyed  wine, 


62  BEYOND    THE  SHADOW. 

And  on  my  trembling  lips  the  bitter  moan, 
Into  a  song  divine. 

I  know  Thou  lovest  me,  Lord, — 

Yea,   though   these   eyes   wept  tears   of  blood 

awhile,  — 
For  I  can  look  upon  the  cruel  sword 

That  smote  my  heart,  and  smile. 


INTO  THY   HANDS. 

INTO  Thy  Hands,  my  Father,  I  commit 
All,  all  my  spirit's  care, 
The  sorest  burden  this  dim  life  can  bear, 
The  sweetest  hope  wherewith  its  paths  are  lit! 
Into  Thy  Hands,  that  hold  so  closely  knit 

What  our  blind,  aching  heart 

Calls  joy  or  grief,  —  we  know  them  not  apart! 
Into  the  Hands  whence  leap 

The  hurling  tempest,  and  the  gentle  breath 
Kissing  the  babe  to  sleep, 

The  flaming  bolt  that  smites  with  instant  death 
The  giant  oak,  and  the  refreshing  shower 
Whose  balmy  drops  make  glad  the  tender  flower. 

What  though,  even  as  lent  jewels  passing  bright, 

That  crowned  me  happy  king 

For  one  sweet  revel  of  one  night  in  spring, 
I  must  surrender  in  the  morning  light, 


64  BEYOND    THE  SHADOW. 

That  cold  and  gray  breaks  on  my  tearful  sight, 

Youth,  hope,  and  joy,  and  love, 

And  —  oh,  all  other  gems,  all  price,  above  !  — 
The  deathless  certainty 

Of  the  deep  life  beyond  this  pallid  sun, 
That  golden  shore  and  sea 

Which    to    my    youthful   feet  seemed  wellnigh 

won, 

So  fair,  so  close,  so  clear,  methought  I  heard 
The  trees'  soft  whisper  and  faint  song  of  bird. 

What  though  this  fair  dream,  too,  fled  long  ago 

And  on  my  straining  eyes 

There  break  no  more  visions  of  mellow  skies 
'Neath  which  dear  friends,   called  dead,  move  on 

in  low 
Sweet  converse,  through  wide,  happy  fields  aglow 

With  heavenly  flower  and  star,  — 

What  though,  like  some  poor  pilgrim  who  from 

far 
Sees,  through  a  slender  rift 

In  the  dark  rocks  that  hem  his  toilsome  way, 
The  clouds  an  instant  lift 

From  countries  bathed  in  everlasting  day, 
I  stand  and  stretch  my  yearning  arms  in  vain 
Toward  the  blest  light,  too  swiftly  lost  again  ? 


INTO   THY  HANDS.  6$ 

Into  Thy  Hands,  my  Father,  I  commit 

This  dearest,  last  hope  too, 

Old  as  the  world,  and  yet  forever  new, — 
The  hope  wherewith  our  dimmest  paths  are  lit, 
With  life  itself  indissolubly  knit! 

That  too  is  well,  I  know, 

In  Thy  eternal  keeping.     Ah!  and  so 
Let  my  poor  soul  dismiss 

Each  fear  and  doubt,  hush  every  anxious  cry, 
Forget  all  thought  save  this, 

Some  time,  —  oh,    dream    of  joy    that    cannot 

die!  — 

In  those  beloved  Hands,  a  priceless  store, 
All  our  lost  jewels  shall  be  found  once  more! 


SONNET. 

APOLLO,  —  Jupiter,  —  Jehovah,  —  God  ! 

What  matter  by  what  name  we  call  on  Thee, 

Incomprehensible  Divinity, 

Unfathomed  by  us  children  of  the  clod 

Now,  as  when  man  the  first  fair  meadows  trod, 

Fresh  from  Thy  hand !     Deeper  than  sea  on  sea, 

Far  off  as  heaven,  vast  as  eternity, 

Yet  present  in  the  grasses  of  the  sod, — 

So  we  but  worship  something  more  sublime 

Than  our  poor  selves,  give  the  too  haughty  soul 

To  something  that  outreaches  earth  and  time, 

And  what  sharp  ills  our  fleeting  lives  control, 

Endure  in  patience  'neath  thy  thorny  rod, 

Apollo,  —  Jupiter,  —  Jehovah,  —  God  ! 


THE  HERB   FORGETFULNESS. 

"Wo  -wdchst  das  Kraut   Vergessenheit ? " 

"WHERE  grows  the  herb  Forgetfulness, 

O  Mother,  dost  thou  know  ? 
On  sun-scorched  soil  no  foot  may  press, 
Or  'mid  eternal  snow? 

"  In  some  still  nook  the  tempests  shun, 

Or  on  the  wind-swept  plain  ? 
Lit  by  what  pallid  midnight  sun, 
Fed  by  what  dew  or  rain, 

"  Springs  the  white  flower  from  whose  deep  heart 

A  wondrous  draught  distilled, 
Has  power  to  soothe  each  throbbing  smart, 
Each  yearning  unfulfilled  ; 

"  All  tears  to  dry,  all  wounds  make  whole, 

All  founts  of  sorrow  seal ; 
The  bitterest  anguish  of  the  soul, 
Love's  hopeless  pangs  to  heal  ? 


68  BEYOND    THE   SHADOW. 

"  O'er  all  the  world  I  'd  wander  round, 

Through  day  and  night  as  well, 
To  learn  where  that  sweet  balm  be  found. 
O  Mother,  canst  thou  tell  ? " 

"Ay,  child.     The  path  is  steep  and  slow, 

Yet  brave  and  patient  feet 
Will  carry  thee  where  thou  may'st  know 
That  blossom  bitter-sweet. 

"The  herb  that  brings  forgetfulness, 

And  makes  all  wounds  grow  whole, 
And  sends  God's  Peace  to  soothe  and  bless 
The  hopeless  travailing  soul, 

"And  has  immortal  power  to  still 

The  fiercest  wind  and  tide, 
Springs  at  the  foot  of  that  dark  Hill 
Where  Christ  was  crucified." 


THY  WILL  BE   DONE. 

BLOW  on,  fierce  tempest,  blow ! 
Pour  down  thy  drenching  rain, 
Flash  thy  red  lightning's  glow 
O'er  trembling  land  and  main,  — 
I,  but  an  humble  lily  of  the  field, 
Resistless  to  thy  swinging  furies  yield, 
Let  without  pause  or  stay 
All  bonds  and  fetters  burst, 
Wild  winds  and  torrents  sway, 
Wreak  on  my  head  their  worst  ! 

What  though  they  snap  and  drown 

Blossom  and  branch  and  root, 

Wither  and  blast  far  down 

Fair  bud  and  tender  shoot,  — 

From  my  crushed,  broken  heart  may  still  rise  up, 

Like  incense  from  a  shivered  golden  cup, 

A  last  faint  breath  to  Heaven. 

Left  without  star  or  sun, — 

He  took  what  He  had  given, 

Thy  will,  my  God,  be  done  ! 


MY   FATHER'S   CHILD. 

Though  ye  do  no  wonderful  deeds  and  accomplish  no  great  sacri- 
fices, it  shall  be  sufficient  unto  you,  to  have  worshipped  the  Lord 
with  your  whole  heart  and  strength. 

ABOUT  her  head  or  floating  feet 

No  halo's  starry  gleam, 
Still  dark  and  swift  uprising,  like 

A  bubble  in  a  stream,  — 

A  soul  from  whose  rejoicing  heart 
The  bonds  of  earth  were  riven, 

Sped  upward  through  the  silent  night 
To  the  closed  Gates  of  Heaven. 

And  waiting  heard  a  voice  —  "  Who  comes 

To  claim  Eternity? 
Hero  or  saint  that  bled  and  died 

Mankind  to  save  and  free  ? " 

She  bent  her  head.     The  voice  once  more  — 
"  Didst  thou  then  toil  and  live 


MY  FATHER'S   CHILD.  71 

For  home  and  children  —  to  thy  Love 
Last  breath  and  heart's-blood  give  ? " 

Her  head  sank  lower  still,  she  clasped 

Her  hands  upon  her  breast  — 
"  Oh,  no  !  "  she  whispered,  "  my  dim  life 
Has  never  been  so  blest! 

"  I  trod  a  lonely,  barren  path, 

And  neither  great  nor  good, 
Gained  not  a  hero's  palm,  nor  won 
The  crown  of  motherhood! 

"  Oh,  I  was  naught !  "     Yet  suddenly 
The  white  lips  faintly  smiled  — 

"  Save,  oh,  methinks  I  was  mayhap 
My  Heavenly  Father's  Child  !  " 

A  flash  of  light,  a  cry  of  joy, 

And  with  uplifted  eyes 
The  soul  through  gates  rolled  open  wide. 

Passed  into  Paradise. 


AFTER   YEARS. 

"  For  what  is  a  man  profited  if  he  shall  gain  the  whole  world  and 
yet  lose  his  own  soul  ? »  —  ST.  MATTHEW. 

BE  thine,  thy  wife  ?     Forever  bound  to  thee 
In  that  most  awful,  closest  bond,  where  blend 
Soul,  body,  heart,  and  spirit,  —  called  to  be 
One  flesh,  one  life  ?     Impossible !     Oh,  friend, 
Forgive  me,  but  I  cannot,  must  not  now !  — 
Not  now  accept  what  once  with  ecstasy 
Unspeakable  had  thrilled  me,  made  the  brow 
Whereon  thy  touch  left  some  sweet  majesty 
Prouder  than  any  queen's  ! 

And  dost  thou  say 

I  love  thee  not,  and  never  loved  thee  ?  —  Nay, 
God    knows    'tis    not    well    said,  thou   dost   me 

wrong !  — 

Knows  how  I  lavishly  poured  at  thy  feet 
The     richest    blood     wherewith     my    heart    was 

strong 
Because  I  called  it  thine  !     With  what  complete, 


AFTER    YEARS.  73 

Undoubting,  patient,  hopeful  constancy 

I  clung  to  thee,  how  fondly  and  how  long, 

Until  that  fondness  seemed  to  sap  and  drain 

All  life  itself  within  me,  and  I  fain 

Had  cried  for  truce  and  mercy.     They  have  come, 

The  peace  and  rest  I  craved  !     It  is  too  late, 

All  voices  pleading  for  thee  once  are  dumb, 

Voices  whose  sweetest  music  scarce  could  sate 

The  heart  so  deeply  thirsting.     The  fair  rose 

That  only  once  in  full-flushed  glory  blows, 

Has  blown  and  withered,  blasted  past  restore,  — 

The  God  who  smites  and  heals,  — or  call  it  fate, 

Dark  destiny  that  vainly  we  deplore, — 

Has  parted  us  forever! 

And  wherefore 
Too    late,    thou   ask'st  ?      (Nay,   but    I   will    not 

pause, 

I  must  push  on  even  to  the  harshest  end, 
And  thou,  I  think,  wilt  pardon  me  !)     Because 
I  see  too  clearly  now !     And  oh,  my  friend, 
God,  God  knows,  too,  at  what  uncounted  cost 
Of  buried  hopes,  and  faith  forever  lost, 
That    dear-bought  clearness  came !     What   floods 

of  tears 
Washed   these    poor    eyes,  too    long    and  fondly 

blind, 


74  BEYOND   THE  SHADOW. 

Ere  they  had  such  sharp  vision,  but  to  find 

The  light  of  truth,  slow-breaking  after  years, 

Even  then  smote  with  intolerable  sting 

The  aching  sight.     God  is  my  judge  for  aye,  — 

(I  cannot  even  yet,  remembering, 

Speak  calmly  of  it  all !     Pardon,  I  pray, 

The  husky  voice,  and  this  quick,  broken  breath !) 

How  I   hung  back  and  wavered  ere   I  took, 

With  parched  and  fevered  lips,    and   hands   that 

shook,  — 

Took,  broke  and  tasted,  finding  that  it  burned 
More  fiercely  bitter  than  the  pang  of  death, 
That  fruit  with  ashes  filled,   which  yet  I  learned 
To  eat  at  last  even  as  my  daily  bread, 
The  fruit  of  the  conviction  too   long  spurned, 
That  we,  —  that  thou  and  I,  could  never  wed, 
Because    (God  !  had  I  never  lived  to  see !) 
My  heart  has  finer  fibres  than  thy  own  ! 
(The  word  is  uttered  now  that  falls  on  me, 
And  oh,   I  sadly  fear,    on  me  alone, 
Like  a  sharp,  smarting  blow !)  —  So  much  more 

fine, 
That    thy  poor    heart  has    frayed  and  wounded 

mine 

A  thousand  times,  and  never  guessed  nor  known 
How  often  bruised  and  bleeding  mine  forgave,  — 


AFTER    YEARS.  75 

So  much  more  fine  (oh  let  me  still  be  brave  !) 
I  may  speak  this  which  makes  my  spirit  groan, 
And  never  touch  thee  to  the  quick ! 

Most  true, 

Christ  did  not  thus !     He  never  walked   apart 
From    those   who    had    most    need  of    him,  and 

drew 

His  white  robes  close  about  his  life-warm  heart, 
Crying,   "  Nay,  friend,  I  am  too  good  for  thee  !  " 
But  Christ  was   Christ,  and  his  humanity 
Wrought  of  such  subtlest   essence  past  compare, 
That  through  it  knit  to  God  insolubly, 
Men  not  unjustly  call  him  the   divine. 
And  Christ  was    never  wed,  —  not    thus    would 

share 

And  mingle  in  the  lot  of  those  he  gave 
His  priceless  blood,  but  not  his  soul,  to  save ! 
I  am  but  made  of  common  clay,  and  mine 
Is  but  a  woman's  heart,  though  now  set  free, 
How  should  I  venture  that  which  even  he 
Dared  not  attempt ! 

And  hast  thou  lost  me  then  ? 
No,  as  I  live,  friend,  no  !  —  Oh  thou  wast  planned 
Nobler  than  one  in  twenty  thousand  men  !  — 
Thou    hast    not  lost  me,  —  pray  thee   take   my 

hand, 


76  BEYOND    THE   SHADOW. 

(Ah,  thank  thee  for  that    strong    warm  clasp  of 

thine  !)  — 

Most  nobly  planned,  but  God's  supreme  design 
Was  sadly  blurred  and  twisted,  wrenched  away 
From   His  grand  primal  purpose  ;  —  how  and  why 
Let  us  not  question !  —  Yet  for  all  and   all 
Thou  canst  not  lose  what  must  beyond  recall 
Through  chance  and  change  and  storms  be  thine 

for  aye, 

The  fond  and  faithful  love  that  cannot  die  ! 
For  I  do  love  thee  still,  though  may  not   give 
What  thou  would'st  ask  in  answer  to  thine  own, 
Whose    barren    blossoms    now,    too    late,    have 

blown, 

Thy  love,  that  once  I  thought  I  could   not   live 
Unless  I  won  !  —  I  love   thee   still,  O  friend, 
But  dare  not  yield  thee  that  which   God   to  me 
Granted  a  sacred  trust,  eternally 
Held  dear  as  heaven  itself,  —  which  in  the  end 
I  must  surrender  back  to  his  control 
Flawless  and   stainless,  —  my  immortal  soul ! 


HOPE. 

HOPE  fluttered  for  an  instant  at  my  door, 

Like  some  blithe  bird  from  sunny  Southern  shore, 

For  one  brief  moment  perched  upon  my  sill, 
With  many  a  warble  and  soft,  joyous  trill ; 

But  yet,  ere  I  could  ope,  and  bid  him  stay, 
He  spread  his  shining  wings  and  soared  away 

Into  the  golden  skies  far  out  of  sight, 

Where  eye  may  follow  not  his  boundless  flight. 


CUPID. 

"WHAT  stranger  comes   so   late  with  timid  tap- 
ping, 

To  knock  upon  my  door  ? 
How,  is  it  love  ?     Surely  I  had  not  fancied 

To  ever  see  him  more  ! 

"Nay,  but  my  pretty,  rosy,  smiling  cherub, 

Who  now  dost  slyly  stand, 
To  thy  arch  lips  pressing  one  chubby  finger, 

The  other  dimpled  hand 

"  Holding  thy  cunning  bow,  while  o'er  thy  shoulder 

The  painted  quiver  peeps, 

Whose   wicked   darts    many    a  poor   heart   shall 
startle 

That  now  securely  sleeps. 

"From   dancing   curls    and    eyes    with    laughter 

brimming 
Down  to  the  twinkling  feet, 


CUPID.  79 

The  sunlight  bathing  thee  in  golden  glory,  — 
I  pray  thee  hence,  my  sweet! 

"  Believe  me,  here  can  be  for  thee  no  dwelling ; 

I  conjure  thee,  away ! 
The  chambers  of  my  house  are  dark  and  silent, 

'T  is  many  a  long,  chill  day 

"Since  they  were   thrown   wide   open  with  glad 

welcome 

To   such  a  guest  as  thee !  " 
—  So   cried   the   maid.      But  he   nor   heard   nor 

heeded, 
But  more  impatiently 

Knocked    ever    loud    and    louder,   frowned    and 

pouted, 

And,  full  of  wrath  at  last, 
Burst  through  the  bolts   and  bars   that,  I  much 

fear  me, 
Were  none  too  well  made  fast! 

And  now  it  seemed,  grown  to  a  very  giant, 
Strode  through  both  court  and  hall, 

With  steps  that  made  the  silent  chambers   echo, 
And  tremble  every  wall. 


8O  BEYOND   THE  SHADOW. 

And  now  seized  a  swift  torch  and  suddenly 

Kindled  the  timbers  dry 

With  a  great  flame  that  crackling,  roaring,  blaz- 
ing, 

Flared  upward  to  the  sky. 

Then  sped  away  ere  he  could  singe  his  winglets, 

And  turning  back  to  see 

What  mischief  he  had  wrought,  laughed  long  and 
loudly, 

Clapping  his  hands  with  glee. 


YOUNG  LOVE. 

O  WHAT  a  loss  is  here,  past  all  repair, 

Though  thousand  years  of  sunshine  were  mine 

own, 
Ne'er  to  have   known  young  love  when  life  was 

fair, 
In  the  first  flush  of  morn  that  long  has  flown  ! 

What  though  his  hands  heaped  high  with  gems, 
he  yet 

Should  come  to  me  in  fullness  of  his  powers,  — 
Could  all  their  lustre  make  my  soul  forget 

The  dewy  freshness  of  those  early  flowers  ? 

The  fragrance  fine  that  from  his  garment  streams, 
The    passing    sweetness     in     those    blossoms 

found  ?  — 
His  noble  brow  whereon  a  fillet  gleams, 

The     youthful     god     with      simple     garlands 
crowned  ?  — 


82  BEYOND    THE  SHADOW. 

O  never,  never !     Thirst  for  aye  unstilled 
Through  all  eternity !  —  For  e'en  the  wide 

Rich  heavens,  were  all  their  promises  fulfilled, 
Could  never  grant  the  boon  that  earth  denied ! 


HIS   WILL,   NOT  MINE. 

"  The  love  of  all 
Is  but  a  small  thing  to  the  love  of  one ! " 

MRS.  BROWNING. 

O  FOND  glad  dream  of  brighter,  bygone  days, 

Too  often  dreamed  of  yore,  — 
That  sometime  mayhap  all  these  idle  lays 

Were  hushed,  and  heard  no  more  ! 

Sometime  this  fever  of  unrest  might  cease, 

That  goads  my  weary  soul 
Forever  on  without  or  pause  or  peace, 

To  an  immortal  goal. 

That   sometime   merged   in   thine,   O   Love,    and 
lost 

As  brooks  with  streams  are  blent, 
Might  find  at  last  my  spirit,  tempest-tossed, 

Unspeakable  content ! 

That  dwelling  close  to  thy  immortal  heart, 
Should  surely  prove  to  be  — 


84  BEYOND   THE  SHADOW. 

Grown  of  its  deeper  life  a  slender  part  — 
Greatness  enough  for  me. 

Yet  God's  dear  mercy  did  not  thus  ordain, 

But  bid  the  poor,  frail  vine, 
That  stretched  its  yearning  tendrils  out  in  vain 

Round  the  strong  stem  to  twine, 

Itself  to  harden  to  a  tree,  and  bide 

All  the  fierce  storms  He  sent,  — 
The  brooklet  with  the  noble  river's  tide 

Forevermore  unblent, 

Its  waters  widening,  deepening  as  they  passed, 

Itself  a  stream  to  flow, — 
Bid  that  my  being  should  itself  at  last 

To  feeble  greatness  grow. 

And  so  these  lays  sound  on  till  with  their  strain 

A  thousand  homes  are  filled, 
While  I,  a  wandering  bird,  have  sought  in  vain 

My  own  bright  nest  to  build. 

How  may  from  thirst  the  parching  lips  be  saved, 

But  slowly  gathering  up, 
In  scanty  drops,  the  draught  of  life  they  craved 

In  one  o'erbrimming  cup  ! 


HIS   WILL,  NOT  MINE.  85 

The  wide  world's  praises,  O  what  bitter  bliss, 

To  the  great  love  of  one,  — 
And  oh,  God  knows,  God  knows  that  in  all  this, 

His  will,  not  mine,  was  done! 


SHIPWRECKED. 

I  TOO  have  hoped  and  dared !  —  My  heart  throbbed 

high 

When  once  at  dewy  morn  I  took  my  place 
Among  the  youths  who  to  the  rose-flushed  sky 
Smiling  above,  lifted  such  radiant  face 
It  seemed  Jove's  darkest  thunders  to  defy.  — 
But  all  have  far  outstripped  me  in  the  race, 
Left  me  with  aching  feet  and  weary  soul, 
To  reach  as  best  I  might  the  fading  goal. 

I   too   have    toiled   and   striven !  —  With  patient 

hand 

Guided  the  laboring  plow,  that  drew  its  slow, 
Deep  furrows  in  the  earth,  tilled  all  my  land, 
Scattered  good  seed,  watered  and  watched  it 

grow,  — 

The  barns  of  hundred  others  bursting  stand 
With  their  rich  harvests'  golden  overflow, 
While  I   scarce  glean   toil's   scant   and   mournful 

meed, 
The  few  poor  grains  sufficient  for  my  need  ! 


SHIPWRECKED.  87 

I  too  have  loved  and  sung !  —  A  lay  may  be, 
As  sweet  and  strong,  as  tender,  deep,  and  fair 
As  aught  the  world  to-day  hears  eagerly,  — 
Yet  the  light  songs  of  others  everywhere, 
Are  joyful  echoed  over  land  and  sea, 
While  mine  die  vainly  on  the  empty  air, 
I,  a  lone  nightingale  in  some  dark  glade, 
Suffer  and  sing  and  perish  in  the  shade ! 

Fame,  fortune,  love,  and  love's  dear  joys,  all,  all 
A  barren  hope,  a  shivered  dream,  no  more ! 
Dead  as  the  heavy  leaves  that  withered  fall 
When  from  gray  skies  the  rains  of  autumn  pour, 
Whose  poor,    spent   life   no   spring-tide   shall  re- 
call, — 

Shipwrecked  the  bark  that  bravely  left  the  shore. 
All  lost  at  sea,  far  from  the  vanished  goal, 
Save  only  God,  and  my  immortal  soul! 


LOVE   HAS   DECEIVED   ME. 

LOVE  has  deceived  me !  —  With  a  strange,  sweet 

smile, 

He  took  from  out  my  yielding  hand  the  oar 
Wherewith  I  thought  to  guide  for  many  a  mile 
My    bark    through     sunlit    waters     close     to 

shore. 

"  Come,  I  will  speed  thee  to  the  Blessed  Isle ! " 
He    said,    and    smiled    again,    but    spoke    no 

more,  — 

And  suddenly  I  found  me  far  from  land, 
Aground  upon  a  bank  of  barren  sand ! 

And  yet  he  came  again,  and  charmed  from  me 
The  sword  wherewith  through  rugged  rocks   I 

thought 
To  carve  a  path  to  some  high  destiny, 

The  deathless  goal  that  long  my  soul  had  sought. 
41  Come,"  said  he  gently,  "  come,  and  thou  shalt 

see 
Beside  my  joys  all  others  sink  to  naught ! " 


LOVE  HAS  DECEIVED  ME.  89 

And,  blindly  following,  suddenly  I  stood 
Forsaken  in  a  dark,  entangled  wood! 

Then  he  stole  on  me  like  a  thief  at  night, 
And  seized  the  shuttle  from  my  clinging  hold, 

Wherewith  I  wove  a  cloth  perchance  not  bright. 
Yet  strong  and  fine.     "I  '11  make  a  woof  with 
gold 

And  purple  shot,"  he  said,  and  in  my  sight 
Charmed  forth  what  seemed  rich  fabrics,  fold 
on  fold, 

Till  I  perceived  he  spun  with  cunning  care 

A  glittering  nothing  of  the  empty  air. 

Love  has  undone  me !     Oh,  how  should  I  meet 
Tempests   and  foes    with   pride    and   strength 
laid  low 

And  arms  all  shivered  ?     And,  oh,  worst  defeat, 
Sum  of  all  ills  the  stricken  heart  may  know, 

The  secret  sense  that  naught  is  half  so  sweet 
As  his  soft  voice  who  is  my  deadliest  foe, 

Naught  half  so  beauteous  'neath  the  sun  to  see 

As  his  fair  eyes,  all  traitors  though  they  be  1 


MARIANA. 

"  '  He  cometh  not ! '  she  said." 

HE  never  came  whose  step  and  loving  call 

I  waited  long  to  hear, 
But  thou  hast  come,  last  Messenger  of  all, 

A  friend  wellnigh  as  dear ! 

Peace  if  not  joy  !  —  yet  peace  itself  were  gain, 

That  must  supremely  bless 
The  soul  sore  travailed,  that  in  vain,  in  vain 

Hungered  for  happiness  ! 

Draw  closer,  oh  thou  voiceless  Guest  and  pale, 
Whose  drooping  torch  burns  low : 

Thy  face  is  hid,  but  through  the  sombre  veil 
Thine  eyes'  dark  light  I  know  ! 

Nay,  closer  still !  —  I  yearn  on  brow  and  heart 
Thy  cool,  strong  hand  to  feel ; 


MARIANA.  QI 

Fevered    with  wounds,    and    throbbing    with    a 

smart 
Thy  touch  alone  can  heal. 

I  go  with  joy !     Lead  me  to  him  at  last,  — 

How  dim  the  path  and  lone  — 
Him,  whose  far  footsteps,    echoing  through  the 
past, 

Have  never  met  mine  own. 


THE   SILENT  HOUSE. 

IT  all  was  over,  and  the  house  was   still.  — 
The   hearse   had   rolled   away,  the    friends    were 

gone, 
Their  vacant  seats  looked  blank  and  desolate.  — 

—  The  muffled  mirror  hung  against  the  wall, 
The  spot  was  empty  where  the   bier  had  stood 
Whereon  he  lay  with   mute  and  smiling  lips.  — 

—  And   naught   remained  of  him  who  once  had 

been 

The  light  of  soul,  the  staff  of  life  to  me, 
Naught  but  the  cross,  that  had  been  left  behind, 
Of  odorless,  white  flowers,  —  so  dead,  so  dead.  — 
And  nothing  now  remained  but  I  alone, 
Alone  to  live  the  long,  long,  joyless  days.  — 
And  so  with  weary  feet  I  climbed  the  stair, 
Up  to  the  room  where  he  was  wont  to  sit. 

—  The  silent  books  upon  their  long-rowed  shelves, 
The  fair,  white  marbles  in  their  quiet  niche, 
Beside  his  pen,  a  bunch  of  withered  flowers, 


THE  SILENT  HOUSE.  93 

The  ivy  twining  round  the  window  frame, 

The  noiseless  floor  where  oft  his  feet  had  trod, 

The    motes    of    dust    that    danced     within     the 

light,  — 

All  was  so  dead,  so  dead  ;  —  and  nothing  stirred 
Save  at  the  pane  an  idly  buzzing  fly, 
And  in  his  cage  the  blithe  canary-bird, 
That  hopped  and  pecked,  and  wondering  looked 

at  me. 

—  The  golden  flecks  of  sunset  on  the  wall 
Moved    high    and    higher    till    they  touched   his 

cage 

With  purple  light,  —  the  little  bird  burst  forth 
In  loud,  rejoicing  song,  and  I  in  tears.  — 

The  morning  sun  was  in  the  room,  —  I  woke,  — 
I  knew  it  was  a  dream,  —  I  knew  my  life  , 
Was  heavier  than  the  burden  of  my  dream,  — 

—  I  had  not  won,  I  had  not  loved  nor  lost.  — 


SONG. 

OH,  does  my  love  love  thee,  great  Queen, 

Upon  thy  lofty  throne, 
Where  shine,  more   bright  than  sunset  clouds, 

Red  gold  and  ruby  stone? 
Did  he  fold  thee  in  his  strong  arms 

Close  to  his  brave,   warm  heart, 
And  whisper  words  more  sweet   than  life?  — 

Ah  God,  —  how  poor  thou  art ! 

Me,  me  he  chose,  the  lowly  one, 

From  all  the  glittering  train 
That  caught  the  sunshine  of  his  smile, 

But  sought  his  soul  in  vain  ! 
Oh,  though  thy  empire  were  the  world, 

All  earth  and  sea  and  sky, 
Poor  Queen,  my  heart  would  bleed  for  thee, 

So  rich,  —  ah  God,  am  I ! 


LOVE  ME. 

LOVE  me  as  thou  may'st  love  the  silvery  light 
Of    some    far,   shimmering  moonbeam  faint  and 

small, 
That  glides  across  thy  foot  on  summer  night,  — 

—  O  love,  but  do  not  love  me  not  at  all !  — 

Love  me  as  thou  didst  love,   a  little  child, 
The  grasses  on  the  meadow  high  and  tall, 
Or  blossoms  in  the  forest,   sweet  and  wild, — 
O  love,  but  do  not  love  me  not  at  all !  — 

Love  me  as  some  faint  music  far  away, 
That  pleasantly  upon  thy  ear  may  fall, 
At  stilly  eve  of  some  long,  weary  day,  — 

—  O  love,  but  do  not  love  me  not  at  all!  — 

Love  me  as  the  swift  shadow  of  the  feet 
Of  her  who  should  have  been  thy  all  in  all, 
As  she  some  other  loved  one  flew  to  meet, — 

—  O  love,  but  do  not  love  me  not  at  all!  — 


SORROW. 

SORROW,  my  brave  companion  true  and  tried, 
My  earliest,  latest,  and  most  constant  friend, 

My   childhood's    playmate,  and  my  youth's  stern 

guide, 
Who  wilt  not  part  till  day  is  at  an  end  — 

t)o  I  again  so  close  to  me  behold 

Thy  rugged  brow,  not  young  yet  never  old? 

Joy,  love,  and  hope  were  left  behind  us  long, 
Too  frail,  they  drooped  upon  the  sun-scorched 
way, 

Or  perished  in  the  storm ;  but  thou  art  strong : 
Tempest,  nor  cloud,  nor  thirst,  nor  heat  of  day 

Wearies  thy  patience  ;  morn  and  eventide, 

Steadfast  and  faithful,  found  thee  at  my  side. 

If  for  an  hour  sometimes  I  missed  thy  face, 
And  hastening  forward  climbed  a  sunlit  height, 


SORROW.  97 

Where  my  glad  soul  enraptured  would  embrace 
The   fair,   sweet  world,  grown   wide  with   new 

delight, 

Thy  touch  upon  my  heart  quenched  suddenly 
The  golden  splendors  of  the  earth  and  sea. 

And  yet  I  thank  thee,  messenger  of  God ! 

For  thou  shalt  ease,  when  day  is  at  an  end, 
That  last  dim  path  that  must  by  all  be  trod, 

Blind,  mute,  alone,  without  a  single  friend, — 
Where  e'en  thy  feet  must  pause,  thy  service  done, 

Oh  my  brave  comrade,  thou  most  faithful  one ! 
Close  to  the  Gates  that  shut  from  thy  grave  eyes 
The  Land  beyond  with  its  unclouded  skies! 


MEASURE  FOR  MEASURE. 

"  O,  YES  ! "  the  throng  of  eager  listeners  cried, 
And  gathered  close  the  gray,  old  Bard  beside. 

"  Come  tell  us  some  good  tale ! "    "A  tale,"  said 

he, 
And  sadly  smiled.     "  A  tale  you  ask  of  me ! 

"But,  friends,  I  fear  me  I  have  none  to  tell 
That  when  you  hear  shall  please  you  over-well. 

"  But  as  you  will !     A  noble  Prince  one  day 
Awoke  in  a  strange  country,  far  away 

"  From  his  dear  native  land  :  what  stern  decree 
To  these  rude  shores  exiled  him  suddenly 

"  He  knew  not,  nor  on  what  fair  star  had  been 
That  first  bright  home  his  happy  eyes  had  seen ; 


MEASURE  FOR  MEASURE.  99 

"  But  dimly,  like  a  half-remembered  dream, 
Its  tufted  palms  and  golden  waters'  gleam 

"  Came  back  upon  his  yearning  soul,  that  here 
Found    earth    and    sea    and    sky   but    chill   and 
drear. 

"And  all  that  now  recalled  to  him  the  great 
Forgotten  splendors  of  his  royal  state, 

"  Was  a  wide  flask  of  rarest,  precious  wine, 
Clear  as  the  sun,  deep  as  the  ruby's  shine, 

"  And  a  gemmed  cup,  fashioned  with  curious  art.  — 
Yet  strong  in  vigorous  youth  and  brave  of  heart, 

"  Bearing  his  sole  possessions  in  his  hand, 
He  wandered  through  the   world,   o'er   sea  and   , 
land, 

"Unknown  of  all,  simple  in  garb  and  glance 
Like    those    he  walked    among,    save    that    per- 
chance 

"A  silent  majesty  upon  his  brow, 

That  wore  the  shadow  of  a  crown  e'en  now, 


IOO  BEYOND    THE  SHADOW. 

"Marked  him  the  scion  of  a  kingly  race. 

And  where  in  town  or  wood  or  field,  what  place 

"  He  came  on  men,  he  lavishly  held  up 
And  filled  with  his  gold  wine  the  o'er-brimming 
cup, 

"And  pledged  them  all  and  bid  them  joyfully 
'  Bring  out  your  best,  e'en  as  I  give  to  ye  ! ' 

"  They  drank  to  him  in  turn,  swift  to  obey 
The  summons,  kind  enough  in  their  sad  way, 

"  But  in  the  Prince's  heart  e'er  lived  the  thought, 
'  Great   God,   how   poor   they   are ! '   seeing   they 
brought 

"But  shallow  goblets  made  of  brittle  glass, 
Or  cups  of  common  metal,  tin  and  brass  ; 

"  And  when  he  tasted  of  their  proffered  draught, 
He  found  'twas  pale,  flat  water  that  he   quaffed, 

"While  they,  his  wine  scarce  touched  with  lips, 

cut  wry 
Strange  faces,  and  would  shake  their  heads,   and 

hie 


MEASURE  FOR  MEASURE.  IQI 

"  To  hand  it  back  to  him,  or,  turning  round, 
Empty  it  slyly  out  upon  the  ground. 

"He  wandered  thus  for  many  a  day  and  year, 
Not  joyful  as  at  first,  nor  full  of  cheer, 

"Yet  ever  by  undying  hope  led  on, 
Through   gathering    twilight    and    gray,    starless 
dawn ; 

"  But  evermore  deceived  by  all  the  throng 
That  crossed  his  path;   and  though  his  life  was 
long, 

"  Even  when  his  hair  turned  white,  his  eye  grew  dim, 
Measure  for  measure  none  had  given  to   him  !  " 

"  Well,  and  what  -then  ?     The  end  ?  "  his  hearers 

said, 
As  now  the  old  bard  paused  and  bent  his  head. 

Another  smile,  and  sadder  than  before, 
Passed  o'er  his  lips  :  "  Good  friends,  I  know   no 
more  ! 

"What  was  the  Prince's  end  I  cannot  say, 
Save  that  perchance,  late  on  a  wintry  day, 


IO2  BEYOND   THE   SHADOW. 

"  His  empty  flask  beside  him,  he  was  found 
Dead  by  the  roadside  on  the  barren  ground." 

"  Oh,  but  who  was  he,  pray  ? "  they  asked  again. 
"  Give  us  his  name !     And  who  those  other  men  ?  " 

But  now  his  eye  lit  up  with  sudden  scorn 
As  he  cried  out,  "  See  here  the  kingly  born  ! 

"And  look  around  upon  yourselves  to  find 
Those  villagers  of  shallow  heart  and  mind !  " 

And  rising,  turned  his  back  on  them,  while  they 
Gazed  after  him  in  open-mouthed  dismay. 


THE   STROLLING   PLAYER. 

"  The  man,  becoming  troubled  in  his  mind,  traveled  East  and 
West  through  the  country  for  some  time,  in  the  vain  hope  of  obtain- 
ing an  engagement,  and  one  morning  was  found  dead  in  his  bed."  — 
Chronicles  of  the  Stage. 

"  WELL,  I  have  come ! "  he  cried  and  gazed 

Upon  the  empty  air; 
"You  wished  me  here  to  show  my  art, — 

I  am  a  strolling  player! 

"I  can  draw  tears  and  laughter  both, 
And  speak  immortal  rhymes,  — 
Who  wants  me  here  ?  "  he  cried  again, 

"  You  Ve  heard  me  thousand  times  !  " 

But  empty  air  alone  replied ; 
The  world,  grown  dumb  and  blind, 
In  pity  weeping,  turns  its  head 
From  the  poor,  wandering  mind. 


IO4  BEYOND   THE  SHADOW. 

So  passing  from  closed  door  to  door, 
He  strikes  his  weary  brow, 
And  stands  bewildered  still  at  last,  — 
"  Strange,  —  no  one  wants  me  now!" 

Then  suddenly  rings  a  joyful  shout,  — 
"  Welcome,  dear  strolling  player !  " 
And  on  his  troubled  eye  bursts  forth 
A  scene  surpassing  fair. 

Round  him  a  dome,  vast,  filled  with  light, 
And  rising  tier  on  tier, 
Illustrious  spirits  there  convened, 
To  see  his  art  and  hear. 

He  moves  and  smiles  and  would  unfold 
His  noblest,  tenderest  page,  — 
And  suddenly  knows  he  has  been  called 
To  an  Immortal  Stage  ! 


THE   OLD   POET'S   REST. 


LIE  fallow  for  awhile,  my  brave  old  brain, 

Who  long  hast  served  me,  and  most  faithfully, 

In  sketch  and  story,  song  and  tragedy, 

With  toil  ofttimes,  and  bitter  pangs  and  pain, 

Yet  not  so  well  for  all  that  I  could  gain 

Even    from    the  finest    flower    that   sprang  from 

thee, 

Honey  to  spread  my  loaf  !  —  Now  happily 
Lie  fallow  till  the  dew  and  wind  and  rain 
Bring  thee  new  strength,  and  generous  Me  the 

sun, 

And  if  I  live,  I  '11  sometime  glean  from  there 
A  richer  math,  please  God,  than  yet  was  won; 
And  if  I  die,  still  will  I  not  despair, 
For  shall  not  all  eternity  be  mine 
Wherein  to  sing  a  thousand  songs  divine  ? 


DESIRE. 

WOULD  that  love's  sun  were  set, 
With  it  the  thrill  of  pain, 
Would  it  were  set  to  rise 
Never  again  1 

Never  again  to  fling 
Glory  o'er  land  and  sea, — 
Left  me  in  starless  night, 
Wretched  and  free! 


TRUST  ME   NOT,   LOVE. 

TRUST  me  not,  love ;  I  am  but  fickle,  fickle ! 
Too  easily  turns  my  soul's  swift-changing  hue; 
I  cannot  long  be  constant,  kind  or  true! 

Tender  or  proud  and  cold, 

Fiery  and  young  or  old, 

Filled  or  with  hopes  or  fears, 

Laughter  or  bitter  tears, 
My  heart  is  tossed  by  every  passing  breeze ! 

Now,  at  high  noon,  I  love  the  crimson  rose, 
But  ah,  alas  !  who  knows, 
If  ere  the  starry  night  please  me  not  best 
The  golden-hearted  lily's  pallid  crest! 

This  hour  I  'd  joyful  lay  me  down  to  die 
For  a  dark  lustrous  eye ; 

The  next  may  all  my  heart  be  stormed  and  won 
By  some  blue  violet  hiding  from  the  sun. 


IO8  BEYOND    THE  SHADOW. 

To-day  I  treasure  high  proud  liberty, 
To-morrow  I  may  be 
The  willing  vassal  of  some  mighty  king, 
Holding  his  glory  dear  o'er  everything. 

Ah !  now  I  love  thee  with  consuming  fire, 
Now,  in  the  dewy  morning's  early  ray, 
But  who  may  tell  if  not  ere  close  of  day, 

Before  another  morn, 

Hot  vows  be  pledged  and  sworn, 

Eternal  faith,  my  sweet, 

At  other,  dearer  feet  ? 
Trust  me  not,  love ;  I  am  but  fickle,  fickle  ! 


THY   HEART   IS   LIKE  THE   SUN. 

THY  heart  is  like  the  sun  within  the  sky, 
That  makes  the  whole  world  bright, 
And  as  thou  beam'st  on  all  from  there  on  high, 
So  I  receive  thy  light.  — 

Why  should  I  mourn,  that  like  unto  the  rest 
Thou  also  giv'st  to  me  ?  — 
And  yet  I  weep  to  think  that  I  am  blest, 
Like  all  humanity !  — 


WHERE  HAST  THOU  GONE,  O  MY  SOUL? 

WHERE  hast  thou  gone,  O  my  soul, 
Suddenly  vanished  and  flown 
Into  dim  regions  unknown  ? 
Hast   thou    delved    down    into    the  earth's  dark 
core, 

Or  floated  up  into  the  wintry  air, 
Or  plunged  into  mid-ocean  far  from  shore, 
And  to  return  no  more  ? 

Or  dost  thou  follow  on  in  dumb  despair 
The  shadow  of  his  feet  through  night  and  morn, 
Who  has  no  heed  of  thee,  O  soul  forlorn? 

Where  hast  thou  gone,  O  my  soul, 

Secretly  stealing  away 

From  this  poor  prison  of  clay  ? 

That    cold    and  dumb    it  stands  since  thy  swift 

flight 
Like  a  bleak   house  whose  cheery  sounds  are 

still, 


WHERE  HAST  THOU  GONE ?  HI 

Its  windows  dark,  its  hearth  no  longer  bright,  — 
That  what  was  once  delight, 

The  voice  'neath  which  my  heart  was  wont  to 

thrill 

E'en  as  the  wind-harp  in  the  breeze's  breath, 
Moves  it  no  more  from  this  strange  living  death  ? 

Wherever  thou  dwellest,  O  my  soul, 

In  what  dim  regions  unknown, 

Thou  may'st  be  wandering  alone, 

Come  back  to  me  from  earth,  or  air,  or  sea, 

O  truant  soul,  without  whose  quickening  fire, 

Grief  has  no  sting,  and  joy  no  ecstasy, 

And  phantoms  equally 

Are  hope  content  and  unfulfilled  desire ; 
Nor  death  itself  were  bitter  nor  life  sweet, 
E'en  in  the  very  shadow  of  his  feet, 
Whom  thou  must  follow,  follow  night  and  morn, 
Though  he  may  heed  thee  not,  O  soul  forlorn! 


SONNET. 

OH  sad,  sweet,  pallid  ghost,  —  if  ghost  thou  art, 
Whose  voiceless  presence  still  stands  at  my  door, 
And  casts  a  shadow  o'er  the  sunlit  floor, 
And  will  not  be  denied,  but  claims  a  part 
In  every  joy  or  pang,  —  through  the  loud  mart 
Or  to  the  silence  where  my  soul  would  pour 
To  God  its  yearnings,  following  evermore,  — 
I  cannot  banish  thee  !  —  this  shaken  heart 
Can  find  no  spell  wherewith  to  exorcise 
Thy  awful  power  !  —  the  light  in  other  eyes, 
Though  love  smiled  there,  grows  dim  and  cold ; 

I  see 

Thine  own  beyond,  fixed  on  me  duskily, 
And  turn  to  thee,  undone  by  hopeless  strife, 
Oh  sad,  sweet  ghost,  more  living  than  all  life ! 


OH,    BAR   THY   GATES! 

"On,  bar  thy  gates,  my  heart,  make  fast 

Window  and  port  and  door, 
Lest  thy  first  foes,  returned  at  last, 

Should  enter  here  once  more  ! 
The  Joy  and  Grief  were  wont  of  old 
Their  revels  in  thy  courts  to  hold ; 

Through  every  arch  in  state 
Throng  a  gay  conquering  host, 
Or  like  a  voiceless  ghost 

At  hour  of  midnight  late, 
Steal  to  the  castle  stealthily,  and   leave 

Its  splendors  desolate !  " 

"  The  gates  are  fast !     The  bitter  tide 

Of  tears  that  without  stay 
Once  poured  its  streams  here  deep  and  wide, 

Has  forced  them  shut  for  aye,  — 
The  bolts  and  bars  are  gnawed  by  rust, 
The  silent  courtyard  's  dim  with  dust ! 


114  BEYOND   THE  SHADOW. 

Yet  round  them  grasses  spring, 
And  on  the  ramparts  high, 
Beneath  a  cloudless  sky, 

Some  pallid  blossoms  swing, 
And  now  and  then  a  bird,  in  its  glad  course, 

Pauses  an  hour  to  sing ! " 


ROME. 

HEART  of  the  world  !  —  that  like  a  newborn  star 
Gleams  on  the  bosom  of  the  world  grown  old, 
And  like  a  deathless  flower,  unending  far 
Breathes  subtle  perfume  from  a  cup  of  gold,  — 
Heart    of  the   world,   through   whose    pulsations 

flow 

Beauty's  eternal  streams  through  every  land,  — 
Whose  quickening  throbs  first  kindled  into  glow 
The  fires  of  freedom,  that  no  cursed  hand 
Could  wholly   quench   again,  —  who   wearest  for 

aye 

The  sign  of  empire  on  thy  royal  brow, 
Beyond  the  power  of  kings  to  wrest  away,  — 
What  could  the  craving  spirit  ask,  that  thou 
From    out  thy  boundless   treasures   couldst    not 

give, 

And  how  may  I  dwell  far  from  thee  and  live ! 
From  youth's   first  dawn  through  oh  how   many 

a  year 


Il6  BEYOND    THE  SHADOW. 

Have  I  not  loved  thee  with  undying  love, 
Have  I  not  yearned  to  lay  my  eager  ear 
Where  I  might  catch  around  me  and   above 
The  music  of  thy  deep,  majestic  beat, 
Heart  of  the  world  !  —  How  oft  in  dreams  divine 
Dreamed  I  should  haste  to  thee  with  flying  feet, 
To  fall  with  joy  ineffable  at  thine, 
While  bending  o'er  me  with  a  gracious  smile 
Thou  lovingly  shouldst  raise  and  fold  me   round 
With  thy  strong  arms,  and  shouldst  my  soul  be- 
guile 

Into  belief,  forgetfulness  were  found 
For  all  its  pangs,  —  for  one  brief  hour  to  know 
The  wounds  no  more,  life  struck  it  long  ago. 

For  thou  too  lovest  me  !     Oh,  have  I  not  heard, 

In  starry  nights  across  the  windy  sea, 

Thy  voice    that   called    to   me,  —  the   whispered 

word 

That  softly  wooed  and  promised  lavishly 
Delights  unto  the  spirit  tempest-tossed, 
Fair  as  the  magic  visions  wont  to  shine 
Surpassing  bright  in  childhood's  days  long  lost. 
And  still  I  have  not  come,  and  still  o'er  thine 
Eternal  hills  the  sunset's  purple  gold 
Flames  as  it  flamed  and  died  for  thousand  years, 


ROME,  II/ 

Unseen  by  me,  whose  straining  eyes  behold 
Thine  image  scarce  afar  through  blinding  tears  ; 
Far  from  thy  love  a  fetter  bars  me  still, 
Rigid  as  God's  unalterable  Will. 

How  may  with  aims  immortal  still  be  strong 
The  fainting  soul  consumed  in  vain  desire, 
Heart  of   the  world,  for  thee  !  —  how  with  great 

song, 

That  might  leap  forth  like  living,  sacred  fire, 
The  parching  lips  o'erflow,  not  given  by  God 
For  all  the  trembling  prayers  they  send  on  high, 
To  slake  their  thirst  at  thy  rich,  purple  flood, 
That  I  would  drain  to  fill  and  satisfy 
These  barren  veins,  wherein,  too  well  I  know, 
The  sap  and  strength  of  youth  are  withering  fast, 
The  fuller  tides  of  being  ebbing  low. 
—  Heart  of  the  world!  mine  own  must  break  at 

last, 

If  from  thy  breath  new  power  I  may  not  gain 
To  bear  life's  burden  and  to  sing  its  pain ! 


SUNDAY. 


OH  blessed  day !  that  like  a  golden  isle 
Clasped  by  a  cloudless  sky  and  sunny  sea, 
Liest  'mid  the  waves  of  time  that  endlessly 
Fret    round    about    us, — well    might    thy    deep 

smile 

Our  wearied  souls  into  belief  beguile, 
Earth  were  attuned  to  sweetest  harmony, 
We  drank  of  passing  peace,  and  should  go  free 
From  fate's  dark  tempest  for  a  little  while. 
—  In  thee,  named  for  the  proudest  stars  of  all 
That    shimmering   hang   on    high,    life's    fevered 

flow 

For  a  brief  space  glides  with  such  gentle  fall 
Past  the  fair  blossoms  which  beside  it  blow, 
That  on  its  restful  heart  unruffled  shine 
The  widespread  heavens,  filled  with  God's  breath 

divine  ! 


TO   AN   UNKNOWN   LOVE. 

She  was  a  lonely  woman.  Yet  if  sometimes  gently  twitted  on 
her  condition,  as  is  the  fashion  of  young  folks,  she  always  smiled 
brightly,  and  said  she  knew  that  somewhere  in  the  Universe  her 
Lover  was  waiting  for  her. 

OH  my  blessed  Love,  beloved  though   unknown, 

unfound,  unseen, 
More  than  all  that  God  has  fashioned  His  sweet 

heaven  and  earth  between ! 

Thou   of  noble  form   and  feature,    ample   height 

and  girth  of  limb, 
Of    that  generous   mould   resembling  some  rich 

vessel,  to  the  brim 

Filled  with  golden  wine,  whose  presence,  though 

in  secret  hid  and  sealed, 
Its  fine  fragrance,  all  pervading,  to  the  gladdened 

sense  revealed. 


I2O  BEYOND   THE  SHADOW. 

Ay,  a  soul  wherein  there  blossoms  perfect  man- 
hood's fairest  flower, 

Strength  to  tenderness  transmuted,  mildness  wed- 
ded into  power. 

Of   a  brow  where   thoughts   immortal    set    glad 

youth's  unfading  spell, 
Of  a  grave,  sweet  smile,  and  earnest,  quiet  eyes, 

that  kindly  dwell 

On  all  living  things  and  creatures,  men  of  every 

clime  and  zone, 
Yet  with  deeper  light  enkindle,  but  for  one,  and 

one  alone, 

And  that  one  myself,  Beloved  !  —  Oh  my  tender, 

calm  and  strong, 
Oh  to  thee,  my  joy,  my  darling,  do  I  consecrate 

this  song ! 

Thou  unknown  and  yet  familiar,  with  what  fer- 
vent prayers  and  tears 

Have  I  sought  thy  fleeting  image  through  the 
weary,  endless  years  ! 


TO  AN  UNKNOWN  LOVE.  121 

Sometimes  heart  and  pulses  thrilling,  fancied  for 

a  little  space 
That  I  caught  here,  there,  and  yonder,  glimpses 

of  thy  form  and  face; 

But  deceived,  deluded   ever,  in  the   fond,   sweet, 

foolish  trust, 
At  my  trembling  touch  the  image  crumbled  into 

common  dust ! 

Yet  for  all  the  hopeless  yearning  that  was  ever 

my  sore  part, 
God's  dear  mercy  never  suffered  that  I  gave  my 

wayward  heart 

Unto  any  less  of  stature,  smaller  state  or  mould 

more  mean 
Than   in   thee  I  love   and  worship,  O  my  royal 

Love  unseen  ! 

God's    sweet   mercy,    that    has    kept    me   whole 

and  pure  and  true  for  thee, 
Even  as  thou,  Love,  'neath  the  starlight,  or  beyond 

it,  wait'st  for  me, 


122  BEYOND   THE  SHADOW. 

Somewhere,  somewhere  !  —  And  though  weary 
worlds  divide  us  for  a  while, 

Sometimes  we  shall  clasp  each  other,  speech- 
less, with  a  silent  smile, 

Read  the    love  through    tears   of    rapture,    that 

since  life  began  we  bore 
Each  to  each,  O  my  Beloved,  —  found,  mine  own 

forevermore ! 


O   FLOWER   MOST   FINE! 

O  FLOWER  most  fine  of  Love  Divine, 
That  to  my  soul  had  given 
For  bliss  not  found  on  earth's  wide  round 
A  joy  of  heaven,  — 

O  source  of  song !  that  bright  and  strong 
Once  flashed  beneath  the  sky, 
Or  like  a  brook  in  shady  nook 
Went  murmuring  by ; 

Turned  in  its  flow  to  music  low 
The  day's  monotony, 
While  where  it  sang,  luxurious  sprang 
Grass,  flower,  and  tree; 

White  lilies  fair  that  filled  the  air 

With  fragrance  passing  sweet, 

'Neath  the  green  shade  where  down  I  laid 

Life's  toil  and  heat. — 


124  BEYOND    THE  SHADOW. 

Through  what  dark  power,  in  evil  hour, 
Did  then  thy  founts  run  dry; 
Through  what  sharp  blight,  in  starless  night, 
Thy  blossoms  die? 

Deep  at  the  core  where  hope  is  o'er, 
Shall  this  dark  death  be  found  ?  — 
Or  shall  the  source  that  in  its  course 
Flowed  underground 

'  For  a  brief  space,  in  power  and  grace 
Leap  forth  once  more  to  day, 
From  the  brown  root  new  blossoms  shoot, 
More  fair  than  aye  ? 

O  Love  Divine,  the  answer  Thine 
Unto  the  soul  to  give, 
That  as  it  fall  must  at  Thy  call 
Perish  or  live! 


GREECE. 


O  MAGIC  land,  with  sunny  seas  girt  round, 
And  gentle  hill-tops,  whose  dark  forests  shine 
In  the  deep  flush  of  morns  and  eves  divine, 
Thou  who   didst   once  with  rapturous   songs   re- 
sound, 

In  the  glad  time  when  on  thy  shores  was  found 
A  happier  people,  flower  most  proud  and  fine 
Of  all  our  race,  who  drained  the  golden  wine 
Of  beauty  from  a  cup  with  roses  crowned  — 
Wherefore    turn    we,    whose   brightest    splendors 

seem 

Of  the  full  glory  thine  so  long  ago 
But  a  faint  echo,  a  pale  after-gleam, 
With  love  so  great  to  thee  that  in  its  glow 
Two  thousand  years  of  shadow  melt  away, 
And  thou  arisest  fair  as  yesterday  ? 


126  BEYOND    THE   SHADOW. 


For  oh,  in  thee  the  image  we  behold 

Of  that   fresh,   dew-gemmed   morning,  when   the 

lyre 

Still  had  unbroken  music  to  inspire 
The  leaping  blood  with  ecstasies  untold, 
Whose  generous   heat  through  weary  years   grew 

cold; 

When  it  seemed  easy  task  to  snatch  the  fire 
From    heaven    on    high,  with    hands    that  could 

not  tire, 

Ere  yet  the  saddened  soul  was  wise  and  old ; 
Symbol  of  that  proud  power  of  early  days, 
When  all  things  great  were  hoped  and  dared  and 

done, 

Which  breathes  in  living  stone  or  deathless  lays 
Of  what   no   more   shall   come   'neath    this    pale 

sun  — 

That  youth  immortal  that  from  age  to  age 
Is  still  the  world's  most  priceless  heritage  ! 


LIKE  TO  A  BROOK,   O  SONG! 

Too  long,  too  long, 

O  my  immortal  song ! 

Like  to  a  brook  whose  joyous  life  has  lain 

Fettered  and  hushed  in  winter's  icy  chain, 

Wast  thou  imprisoned  in  my  silent  heart ! 

Now  like  that  brook  in  Spring, 

When   the  warm   beam   makes   leaves   and  bios* 

soms  start, 

And  joyfully  the  woods  and  valleys  ring 
With  new-found  lays  of  warblers  on  the  wing,  — 
Unbound  from  ice  and  snow, 
That  do  but  help  to  swell  thy  flood  and  flow, 
Of  every  trammel  free, 
Leap  forth  into  the  sun, 
Thy  new  glad  course  begun 
In  fuller  strength  than  yet  was  granted  thee! 

Flow  on,  flow  on ! 

From  twilight  unto  dawn, 


128  BEYOND    THE  SHADOW. 

Through   morn  and   noon,  and  'neath   the   star's 

pale  glow, 
And  singing  tell  of  all  things  thou  shalt  know ! 

—  Of  the  fair  child  who  bathes  his  dimpled  feet, 
Laughing  aloud  with  glee, 

In  thy  bright  stream,  or  sails  his  tiny  fleet, 

—  Of  the  fair  maid,  who  bending  down  shall  see 
Her  own  sweet,  blushing  image  glassed  in  thee, 

—  Of  the  glad  even-tide, 

When  happy  lovers  walk  thy  banks  beside, 

Whispering  in  voices  low, 

Hand  clasped  in  clinging  hand, 

Or  in  glad  silence  stand, 

Amid  the  trees  and  flowers  that  round  thee  blow. 

Away,  away ! 

Thou  canst  not  ever  stay 

'Mid  this  sweet  peace,  where  thy  small  heart  is 

stirred 

By  sun  and  shade,  and  flower  and  chant  of  bird, 
But  must  from  out  thy  pleasant  fields  haste  down 
Into  the  broader  plain, 

Past  shimmering  cities,  and  the  populous  town 
Filled  with  the  busy  hum  of  toil  and  gain, 
Whence    shadows    dim    and    sad  thy  brightness 

stain, 


LIKE    TO  A  BROOK,   O  SONG  I  129 

Where  to  thy  waves  shall  flee 

Fair  innocence  to  save  her  purity, 

Or  sin  and  crime  in  dread 

Haste  their  dark  deeds  to  hide 

In  thy  unruffled  tide, 

Where  stately  ships  float  near  the  silent  dead. 

So  long,  so  long, 

O  my  immortal  song  ! 

Till  like  that  river  thou  hast  seen  and  told 

The  deepest  secrets  that  our  lives  may  hold, 

Flow  ever  on !  —  and  like  that  river,  fed 

By  springs  unceasingly, 

Grow  still  more  wide  thy  banks,  more  deep  thy 

bed, 

Gather  still  fuller  strength  and  majesty 
On  all  thy  course,  yet  mingle  lavishly 
Sweetness  with  power,  so  they 
That  drink  of  thee,  refreshed  go  on  their  way. 
And  as  unto  the  sea 
That  river  hastes  for  aye, — 
O  my  proud  song,  thus  may 
Thy  currents  all  set  to  eternity! 


BE   STILL. 

O  JOY  !  O  happiness !  since  earliest  days, 

Through  many  silent  years, 
I've  waited  for  thee  long  and  patiently, 

Prayed  for  thee  with  hot  tears, 
Sought  thee  'neath  many  forms,  on  hundred  paths 

Followed  thee  long  and  fleet, 
Like  to  some  eager  boy,  who  does  pursue 

With  swift,  untiring  feet, 
From  dewy  morn  till  noon  —  till  the  gray  eve  — 

Through  vales,  o'er  hill-tops  high, 
O'er    dusty    highways,     through    green,    flowery 
meads, 

Some  golden  butterfly, 
That  charms  his  sight  and  soul  and  lures  him  on, 

E'er  on,  resistlessly ; 
Now  poising  on  some  trembling  lily-stem, 

Now  on  some  small,  brave  tree 
That  spreads  its  crimson  roses  to  the  sun, 

And  then  perchance  upon 
The  very  path  before  him,  at  his  feet, 

Yet  ever  and  anon, 


BE  STILL.  131 

As  he  draws  nigh,  and  with  all  eager  hands, 

Fancies  that  he  must  clasp 
The  delicate  wings  that  softly  ope  and  close, 

Eluding  his  swift  grasp, 
And  mockingly  winging  its  flight  away, 

E'er  on  and  on  again, 
Till  weary,  breathless,  he  must  pause  at  last, 

All  his  great  hope  grown  vain  ! 
Wherefore  this  be,  I  know  not,  O  my  soul, 

And  may  not  answer  thee ! 

Were    it    perchance    that    this    frail,    beauteous 
thing 

Is  wrought  so  tenderly, 
Captured,  its  life  endured  but  one  brief  hour  ? 

Or  that  its  delicate  mould 
Viewed  closer  by  were  not  so  passing  fair  ? 

Or  that  the  pallid  gold 

Which    paints    its    splendor  on    the    shimmering 
wings, 

Were  bruised  and  paled  away ; 
Turned  to  gray  dust  at  the  first  touch  of  aught 

Fashioned  of  coarser  clay  ? 
I  may  not  say  nor  question  more ;  but  know 

'Twas  thus  my  Father's  will, 
And  that  it  is  my  part  to  rest  content, 

And  bid  my  heart  be  still! 


ALL  FUTURE  YEARS  ALONG. 

THOU  who  hast  been  to  me  in  by-gone  years, 
For  the    great    love    that    then  was    mine   for 
thee, 

The  all-abundant  source  of  bitter  tears,  — 
A  spring  whose  waters  flowed  so  lavishly, 

So  deeply  mingled  with  a  subtle  bane, 

That  those  green  days,  when  hope  was  young 
and  bright, 

And  life  had  like  a  shimmering  garden  lain, 
Flooded  with  sun,  in  my  enchanted  sight, 

All  the  wide  spring-time  landscape  clouded  hung 
As  with  the  gray  mists  of  perpetual  rain, 

The    thousand     beauteous     blossoms    there  had 

sprung, 
Struck  by  a  sudden  cruel  blight  were  slain, 


ALL  FUTURE  YEARS  ALONG.     133 

Wilted    and    drooped,  as    touched    by  breath  of 

fire, 

Till  of  all  joys  of  gladsome  earth  was  left 
Not  one  my  soul  yearned  toward  with  fond  de- 

sire, 
Of  that  delight  untold,  thy  love,  bereft,  — 

Be  to  me  still  all  future  years  along, 

For  the  great  love  is  ever  mine  for  thee, 

The  never-failing  fount  of  sweetest  song  ; 

A  well  shall  spend  its  streams  so  generously, 

So  strong  with  secret,  blest,  life-giving  power, 
That  those   sere   days  when  hope   is   old   and 


When,  in  the  course  of  nature,  leaf  and  flower 
Are  stripped  of  brightness,  droop  and  fade  away, 

The  whole  wide  autumn  landscape  shall   be  clad 

In  all  the  thousand  charms  of  spring  again, 
All    the    parched,    tender    plants,    newborn    and 

glad, 
As  with  the  freshness  of  soft  summer  rain, 

After  long    drouth,  —  lift    up    their    heads   once 

more, 
Put  forth  new  buds  and  blossoms  passing  fair, 


134  BEYOND    THE  SHADOW. 

That  shall  like  incense  delicate  odor  pour 
All  round  about  them  on  the  sunny  air,  — 

A  perfume  so  most  strong,  and  sweet,  and  pure, 
That  through  unnumbered  ages  yet  to  be, 

Within  the  souls  of  men  shall  still  endure 
Our  fragrant,  undivided  memory. 


ABOVE  AND   EARTH   AND    TIME. 

O  LARK  !  that  risest  from  dew-glistening  fields 
Into  the  cloudless,  sun-filled  morning  sky, 
Lost  in  the  rapture  of  thy  warbling  song, 

—  Soaring  so  far,  so  high, 

The  earth  with  all  its  towering  hills  appears 

But  a  green  island  in  a  wide,  blue  sea, — 

What  are  to  thee 

The  voices  of  the  children  in  the  field 

That  laugh  and  crow 

So  deep  below, 

The  feeblest  echo  of  their  loudest  glee 

Scarce  reaches  thee  ?  — 

O  soul !  that  risest  from  the  happy  earth 
Into  the  boundless  space  of  heaven  on  high, 
Heedless  if  it  be  day  or  darksome  night,  — 

—  Soaring  to  God  so  nigh, 

The  world  with  all  its  petty  cares,  appears 
But  a  dark  speck  in  a  vast  sea  of  light, — 


136  BEYOND    THE  SHADOW. 

—  That  with  unruffled  calm  dost  contemplate, 

And  life  and  death,  or  good  or  evil  fate, 

That  knowest  thine  the  peace  unspeakable, 

Where  tears  and  smiles  are  done, 

And  pain  and  joy  as  one,  — 

What  were  to  thee  the  noisy  voice  of  fame 

Wherewith  men  chose   perchance  to  herald  thee, 

Through  every  land  and  clime, — 

Thee,  that  dost  rise  above  and  earth  and  time  ?  — 


IN  VAIN. 

IN  vain,  O  Life  and  Time !  in  vain 
Your  toil  and  strife,  the  end  to  gain 

Whereon  your  hearts  are  set ! 
Nor  strength  nor  cunning  shall  avail, 
Your  wiliest  efforts  all  must  fail, 

To  make  my  soul  forget ! 

One  working  with  the  voiceless  power 
That  silently  saps  rock  and  tower, 

Till  there  must  sink  away 
The  proudest  spires  that  rise  on  high, 
The  cliffs  that  heaven's  fierce  storms  defy, 

To  dust  and  dark  decay. 

The  other  with  the  thunder's  roar, 
As  when  the  waters  to  their  core 

Cleaves  the  red  lightning's  sheen, 
And  right  and  left  on  either  side 
Rears  in  the  flash  the  plunging  tide 

Steep  walls  of  quivering  green. 


138  BEYOND    THE  SHADOW. 

One  steady  like  a  stream,  whose  strong 
Yet  gentle  current  bears  along 

All  darkness  of  the  past, 
On  whose  still  shores  the  barren  graves 
Grow  bright  with  flowers,  whose  water  laves 

And  heals  all  wounds  at  last. 

One  fitful  as  when  northern  nights 
Are  all  aflame  with  flickering  lights, 

Would  charm  with  thousand  strange 
Fantastic  forms  of  dazzling  play 
All  memories  from  the  heart  away, 

In  ceaseless  whirl   and  change. 

Greater  than  all  things,  save  alone 
And  God  and  love  and  death,  I  own 

Your  wondrous  power,  and  yet 
Shall  all  your  toil  and  strife  prove  vain, 
O  Life  and  Time,  that  end  to  gain, 

To  make  my  soul  forget ! 

For  when  the  goal  seems  well-nigh  won, 
Shall  all  your  labor  be  undone, 

The  dead  shake  off  their  pall ; 
In  but  thy  smallest  span,  O  Time, 
The  slightest  of  the  gifts  sublime, 

Thou,  Life,  must  grant  to   all ! 


IN  VAIN.  139 

A  gleam  of  moonlight  on  the  sea, 
A  chance  sweet  strain  of  melody, 

The  odor  of  a  flower, 
Would  bring  his  image  back  with  tears, 
Through  dust  and  death  of  thousand  years, 

In  all  its  undimmed  power,  — 

Wake  all  those  memories  of  yore 
For  evermore  and  evermore 

Mingled  with  joy  and  smart, 
That  even  when  my  soul  afar 
Rejoicing  floats  from  star  to  star, 

Must  shake  my  inmost  heart. 


ETERNAL   SPRING. 

DEEP  in  the  dimmest  recess  of  my  soul, 

Faint  as  the  passing  fair 
But  yet  scarce  scented  breath  of  spring  that  stole 

Into  the  wintry  air ; 

Bound  as  the  folded  bud  that  shut  from  sight 

Beneath  the  hard,  brown  bark, 
Giving  no  hint  of  the  rich  blossoms'  white, 

Still  slumbers  in  the  dark ; 

Dumb  as  the  unborn  bird  that  in  his  shell, 

Wrapped  in  unconscious  hush, 
Dreams  not  the  chant  that  from  the  living  well 

Of  his  small  throat  shall  gush,  — 

There  lies  the  promise  of  a  coming  song, 

Unquickened,  cold,  and  still, 
While  yet  its  heart  in  secret  waxes  strong, 

The  fluttering  pulses  thrill. 


ETERNAL  SPRING.  141 

And  when  the  moment  comes,  the  magic  word 

Which  the  dark  spell  must  break, 
When  balmy  breath  and  bud  and  warbling  bird 

To  sudden  life  awake, 

Then  with  such   deathless   power  my  song  shall 
roll, 

With  such  deep  sweetness  ring, 
That  in  the  dimmest  recess  of  my  soul 

'Twill  make  eternal  spring! 

P 


SONNET. 

FROM  out  the  finest  flower,  the  rich  and  strong 
Most  precious  wine  of  deepest  life,  set  free 
By  the  deft  touch  of  some  rare  alchemy, 
We,  though  poor  grasses  of  the  field  among, 
Distill  the  golden  honey  of  our  song, 
Ourselves   in   one,  —  O   marvelous   thing  !  —  the 

bee 

And  fragrant  blossom  too.  —  But  yet,  ah  me  ! 
How  in  this  whirling  age,  that  spins  along 
On  lightning's  borrowed  wings  through  space  and 

time, 

Shall  such  sweet,  silent  miracle  be  wrought?  — 
Never !  —  save  when  it  may  be  as  we  climb 
With  daring  feet  those  dizzy  heights  of  thought, 
We  catch  beyond  dim  midnight  sun  or  star 
A  vision  of  the  Godhead  from  afar! 


TRANSFORMATION. 

"GiVE  me  the  wine  of  happiness,"  I  cried, 
"  The  bread  of  life  !  —  O  ye  benign,  unknown, 
Immortal  powers  !  —  I  crave  them  for  my  own ; 
I  am  athirst,  I  will  not  be  denied 
Though    Hell   were   up   in   arms  !  "  —  No  sound 

replied ; 

But  turning  back  to  my  rude  board  and  lone, 
My  soul,  confounded,  there  beheld  —  a  stone, 
Pale  water  in  a  shallow  cup  beside ! 
With  gushing  tears,  in  utter  hopelessness, 
I    stood   and    gazed.     Then    rose    a  voice    that 

spoke,  — 
"God   gave   this,   too,   and   what   He  gives  will 

bless  !  " 
And  'neath   the   hands   that   trembling  took  and 

broke, 

Lo,  truly  a  sweet  miracle   divine, 
The  stone  turned  bread,  the  water  ruby  wine  1 


SONNET. 

THE  hour  before  the  dawn  ;  and  all  around 
O'er  heaven  and  earth  and  ocean  far  and  nigh, 
Stillness,  in  whose  deep  bosom  every  sigh 
And  breath  of  life,  each  faintest,  fluttering  sound 
Seems  hushed  forever.     Stillness  so  profound 
I  know  not  if  it  gently  floats  on  high 
Out  of  my  heart,  or  from  the  star-filled  sky 
Descends,  a  benediction  earthward  bound. 
But  in  that  heart  from  tears  and  sorrow  free, 
There  slowly  rises  —  as  on  some  dark  sea 
A  lily  flower  with  richest  perfume  fraught, 
Its  glimmering  petals  to  the  night  unfurled 
That  folds  it  lovingly  —  the  blessed  thought : 
The  Peace  of  God  has  come  into  the  world! 


SONNETS. 

SOLITUDE. 

I  LOVE  thee,  O  thou  Beautiful  and  Strong, 
Invisible  comrade,  mute,  sweet  company, 
More  dear  than  friend  or  lover  !  But  to  thee 

My  fondest  hopes,  my  fairest  dreams  belong 

For  evermore  !     Amid  the  world's  gay  throng 
I  yearn  for  thy  soft  arms  that  lovingly 
Soothe   all   the  fevered   wounds   once  fretting 
me. 

At   thy   deep   heart   there    springs   the   fount  of 
song 

Whose  drops  shall  cool  my  burning  lips  athirst,  — 
At  thy  swift  beck  within  my  sight  arise 

(Their  bonds  of  silence  and  dim  darkness  burst) 
All  my  beloved  dead,  with  shining  eyes,  — 
At  thy  blest  hand,  by  starlit  paths  untrod, 
My  soul  draws  near  unto  the  face  of  God! 


146  BEYOND   THE  SHADOW. 


SILENCE. 

AY,  and  thee,  too,  who  wield'st  a  power  divine, 
Greater  than  loudest  speech  or  fairest  lay ! 
The  dead,  millions  on  millions,  own  thy  sway, 

In  realms  where  suns,  to  rise  no  more,  decline. 

Thine  is  the  lover's  sweetest  rapture,  thine 
The  deepest  cup  of  grief  or  joy,  that  aye 
The  lips  of  mortal  tasted  ;  thine  —  yet  stay  — 

How  may  I  name  thee,  with  what  sound  so  fine 

It  shall  not  snap  thy  life's  frail,  golden  thread  ? 
O  Solitude  and  Silence,  bid  me  learn 

A  little  of  your  greatness  !     Long  are  fled 
The  lesser  gods  of  life,  now  let  me  turn 
To  ye  alone,  to  ye  in  worship  come, 
The   accents  of    this    faltering  tongue    grown 
dumb ! 


SONNET. 

FROM  out  eternal  silence  do  we  come; 

Into  eternal  silence  do  we  go ; 

For  was  there  not  a  time,  and  swift  or  slow, 

Must   come    again,    when    all    this   world's  loud 

hum 

Was  naught  to  us,  and  must  again  grow  dumb 
Through  all  eternity  ?  —  Between  two  low, 
Dark,  stony  portals,  with  much  empty  show 
Of  tinkling  brass  and  sounding  fife  and  drum, 
The  endless  Caravan  of  Life  moves  on  ; 
Or  whence  or  whither,  to  what  destiny, 
But  He  who  dwells  beyond  the  furthest  dawn 
Knows,  yet  reveals  not,  evermore  even  He 
In  silence  wrapt,  though  deepest  thunders  roll, 
Save  for  His  deathless  message  to  our  soul ! 


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DUE  2  WKS  FROM  Urt  t  K 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  ft 


B    000012956    9 


PS 

1103 

B621b 


